


A mess

by Papy_1412



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Do not forget the comfort part, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Linhardt calling everyone idiots, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, My beta described it as 'pining post mortem' and I love her so much, Not a Deathfic, POV Hubert von Vestra, Slow Burn, Though you can see I didn't use any archive warning so you know what that means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papy_1412/pseuds/Papy_1412
Summary: "Hubert was good at his job. He was a cold-blooded snake. He was born to work in the shadows. He killed on the battlefield, and in dark alleyways. He knew pain, as an ally, and as a weapon.Nonetheless, for the first time in his whole life, he faced pain he did not know how to handle, found in the short sentence that read, “Ferdinand von Aegir fell in battle.” "Or, Myrdinn happens, and Hubert discovers that he, too, can feel.Please check the tags before reading.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 43
Kudos: 290





	1. Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks and love to [@GaikotsuRamen](https://twitter.com/GaikotsuRamen) on twitter (and [Ramen (BlushingTeddybear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingTeddybear/pseuds/Ramen) on Ao3), who did the beta, and is just the sweetest friend ever 🙏 Please check her work too.

Every spy and messenger of the Imperial Army had to come and report to Hubert von Vestra before anyone else. As the head of their communication web, and in this state of war, controlling information was vital.

Some of his old classmates had more blatant functions on the battlefield. Most of them attributed the leading of the troops to Ferdinand von Aegir, as it should be : he had a knack for leadership a lot of their other warriors lacked, and while Edelgard could very well take commands, her position as Emperor often left her on the back lines. The soldiers were also quite enamoured with the sight of the back of their General, high on his war horse, hair flowing around him like a burning sun. It was one sight they liked to say they would follow until the depths of hell.

Hubert, however, was fine with working for his liege in the shadows. He had always been deeply invested in the information network, which is why the role of their main coordinator had fallen onto him. Strategic decisions regarding the Empire as a whole were his responsibility, he organized the flow to their advantage. He took pride in his duty. It was what Hubert von Vestra had been born to do.

Still, in all those years of battles, and daily news to deal with, he never faced any difficulty. He never doubted. His plans tended to work for themselves, and even surprising turns of event he could easily deal with. He knew how to keep a cool head. People liked to call him a cold-blooded snake, and he could be one if needed to. Hubert was good at his job because he did not feel things like regret, or fear, or doubt; it was just a fact.

On the last week of the Lone Moon, a messenger arrived around one in the morning, and went right to his office. It was a visit he had been expecting, a report on the situation around the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Some Alliance scouts had been spotted nearby, and they knew an attack was coming. Claude von Riegan was regaining strength since he had allied with the Hero of Daphnel, and surely he wanted to pay back the Empire, two years after losing his territory to them.

Hubert was not that worried about the situation. Ladislava was a talented gatekeeper, and the reinforcement team had been sent early enough to prevent any chance of the Imperial army being outnumbered. He thanked the messenger, who stayed in front of him, waiting for the following orders, while Hubert opened the parchment.

The report stated what he was expecting. They’d been attacked, but Ladislava had kept her ground, and succeeded in keeping the fortified bridge theirs. They still had suffered a few losses, and they would need new supplies as soon as possible. He’d been anticipating this scenario, so they were already ready to be sent.

Underneath were listed the names of the fallen soldiers, names that would be transmitted the next day during their daily meeting. He would take care of sending his condolences to the family of the fallen soldiers, another one of his jobs. He didn’t particularly enjoy this one, but it needed to be done : it was vital to show that the Imperial Army cared, and that dying on the battlefield didn’t mean being immediately forgotten.

One last paragraph closed the letter. This one, however, Hubert did not read. He could not. Because he read the first sentence. Then he froze.

Hubert was good at his job. He was a cold-blooded snake. He was born to work in the shadows. He killed on the battlefield, and in dark alleyways. He knew pain, as an ally, and as a weapon.

Nonetheless, for the first time in his whole life, he faced pain he did not know how to handle, found in the short sentence that read, “Ferdinand von Aegir fell in battle.”

Something broke in him, like a stopped watch. He kept silent, reading the same words over and over again. He didn’t go further. He didn’t wish to know how, or when. Ferdinand was dead. And Hubert was absolutely unable to know what came next.

The messenger shifted on his feet, waiting. He probably already knew the news, though, and this was why he tentatively inquired if he should go find and wake up the Emperor. Hubert realised his hand holding the parchment was shaking, and that broke him out of his daze. His eyes too widely opened, his voice too soft, he asked :

“Who gave you this letter?”

“Lady Ladislava herself, sir.”

Denial couldn’t even work. This letter was real. Hubert lowered his arm, the paper crinkling between his fingers, and he told the messenger to leave. He would take care of sharing the news, as he always did. It was his duty.

However, when the man departed, he was left with nothing, his thoughts empty except for the sentence, still echoing in his head, a ripple on his skin. With silent steps, like he had been taught to do, he walked back to his desk chair. The report was placed in front of him, though he didn’t read it again. He realised he was waiting for his hands to stop trembling. He had sat down, because he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.

Ferdinand von Aegir had fallen in battle. That was it. His throat hurt. Something cold climbed up his spine, a shiver.

Hubert laid his hands on the desk, trying to keep them steady. He took a long breath, inside, outside. Put his elbows on the wood. Ran a hand through his hair. Once, twice. And then let his head fall into his hands.

The silence of the room, only briefly broken by the crackling fireplace, was deafening. He could hear his throat working with every swallow, the friction of fabric with every tremble.

“Fuck.”

The swear escaped him, as soon as he thought about going to Her Majesty Edelgard to deliver the news. He would have to do the same with all the Black Eagle Strike Force. The rest of the army. And who would take care of the horses? Who would gather Ferdinand’s belongings?

Hubert couldn’t even process the situation, and he sure wasn’t ready for anything coming afterwards. He didn’t want to be the bearer of this news. He didn’t want anyone else to announce it. He didn’t want to know what his own reaction would be. He was a rock for the army, stoic, cold, a silent protector, a deadly weapon. He couldn’t show any weakness, and he had done just that for many years, it shouldn’t have been any different.

Except it was. It definitely was.

Morning came, as much as he dreaded its sight. Hubert felt exhausted, and it was probably because one look at his cup of coffee, sitting on his desk in front of his paperwork, made something lurch inside of him. He couldn’t. He felt so sick.

His feet were heavy as he walked through the corridor, down the stairs, across the monastery, to his lady’s room. He had not acted as her alarm clock for many years, he actually tried as hard as he could to give her more sleep, nowadays.

He was almost dizzy, when he got to her quarters. The one two rooms away was, and would remain empty. He actually wondered if his voice would come out, as parched and burning as it felt now. He knocked anyway.

Edelgard immediately sensed that something was wrong. She opened the door and let her friend inside, when she asked what was wrong and he failed to answer the first time. He kept his head lowered, hiding behind his hair, and as he finally stood on her carpet, staring at the red floor, he forced himself to say :

“Your Majesty. I received news, from Myrddin.”

Hubert opened his mouth, but couldn’t continue. She could probably start to understand what had happened. So he just gave her Ladislava’s report, coward that he was.

She took it without a pause, frowning down the ink, until her face suddenly fell. One of her hands came to cover her mouth in horror. She took a step backward, sitting down on her armchair.

“Hubert, is it– ”

“It does not seem to be a fake.”

“Oh, Goddess…”

Seeing his Lady so shaken up gave him back some composure, as fake as it was. Edelgard had so much weight on her shoulders, since she had decided to leave everything she loved for her ideals, and for the continent. She didn’t have the luxury of sentimentality, nor mourning. Still, it was only the two of them, and Hubert wanted to let her express her distress. He sat down next to her, softly took her hand, that she embraced between her fingers and brought to her forehead, like a prayer.

“This is… too sudden. Goddess, I…” she said after a very long silence. She covered her eyes, and bit her lower lip. “I could never get too close to him, but I still thought of him as a very dear friend… I would’ve chosen him as my Prime Minister, after the war… I…”

He couldn’t answer, but he understood her plight far too well.

It took long minutes, of hiding damp eyes, and clearing of the throat, until the young woman stopped hiding behind their linked hands. She tried to find some self-control again, but she couldn’t fight the distressed ark of her eyes when she finally crossed Hubert’s.

“I am so sorry.”

He shook his head, though he didn’t know why she was apologizing to him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. No one had. He couldn’t even blame the Alliance, they were at war, and soldiers died in every battle. They were not allowed to make one demise more important than another.

Even though it was.

The next hours felt like a bad dream. Edelgard took care of sharing the news to Byleth, while Hubert tried to make sense of the paperwork he should’ve been working on that night, for the incoming meeting. Suddenly they were all in the war room, him, Her Majesty, all of their friends, and the Emperor took it on herself to announce the tragic loss.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he almost didn’t listen, eyes on the empty chair in front of him. Distantly, he heard Edelgard telling everyone that they were allowed to rest for the day if they needed to, and that this day would be one of mourning for the entire monastery. This was the least they could do.

A loud screech broke into the dark clouds that were rumbling in Hubert’s head. When he finally looked, he only had a second to catch the sight of Dorothea quickly apologizing as she stood up from her chair, and ran for the door in hope to hide her sobs. Back to the table, he saw Caspar’s trembling mouth, and Bernadetta’s silent tears. Linhardt wasn’t moving, a statue, like he was still processing the situation. Behind the door, distressed cries broke the heavy silence, and Petra swiftly got up to console her friend.

Hubert just stayed put, as an angry feeling he couldn’t really understand started growing inside of his chest. However, he clenched his hand, and did nothing of it.

* * *

Grief certainly was a strange feeling. He may have been able to hide them better than the majority of the masses, that didn’t mean he was without emotions. He’d certainly felt rage, when he’d heard of his Lady’s fate. He’d felt tenderness and pity, when he’d understood the reason why Bernadetta felt so much more comfortable locked in her room. He’d felt pride, when he’d seen Ferdinand surrounded by grateful villagers after saving the lives of a dozen kids that had been taken hostages by bandits. He would’ve probably never told him, though, and now he’d never be able to.

This was the kind of thought that made grief so poisonous. It was infectious. Hubert couldn’t spend an hour without having a thought overrun by the reminder that the only man he could’ve called a friend was no longer of this world. Because then, he would think that he never got the chance to actually tell him he enjoyed his company. Then he would wonder if the man would’ve been happy being associated with him. Then he would think that he definitely would’ve, because he was an honest, good man, truly one of a kind.

This situation was exhausting. He wasn’t used to this lingering feeling of pure sadness, and he didn’t have the time nor power to do anything about it. They were still at war, mourning or not. He had a duty, probably the most important one at this moment, because when the word of the fall of their General would come out, their enemies would be delighted, and empowered. It was the best occasion to strike for them.

He threw himself into his work, trying to not think about the celebrations that might have been thrown when they’d heard of their loss. Luckily, Bernadetta started camping in his office, and she was the best kind of silent company, now.

A few months back, it had been Ferdinand who’d invaded his couch, because there were days when tea & coffee time was just not something they could fit into their schedules. That’s why they had taken to silently drink their beverage while reviewing files, counting supplies or checking doleances. They could more easily exchange point of views, they could also have a nice easy chat over boring tasks that required no concentration.

Don’t take him wrong, Bernadetta was still a nice companion. It just didn’t feel the same.

The archer had taken to knitting, sitting sideways on his armchair, and the clicking sound was soothing. He couldn’t tell her, but he guessed she was here for herself as much as she was there for him; and he was grateful for that. He had no idea what his old classmates thought of him, of his stance regarding their current situation. He hoped they didn't believe he was absolutely unphased, though he also didn’t want them to see how he really felt. However, he was not surprised Bernadetta could read into him. She’d always been a good judge of character, as long as she actually listened to the other person.

It had been about three days since that fateful night. He wasn’t sleeping a lot, and he was glad no one paid attention to the dark rings under his eyes anymore. He couldn’t keep away from caffeine for too long, addicted as he was, but he still drank far less. This is probably that realization that prompted Bernadetta to be brave enough to ask :

“How… How are you feeling? About, you know… all of this.”

Hubert lifted his head from his paper, and chose to cap his fountain pen. He deliberated for a few seconds between being upfront with her, or keeping his facade.

He chose to be a coward, once again.

“It’s been hard to keep my mind out of it, frankly.”

The evasive and definitely not completely honest answer didn’t seem to bother her.

“Hm, I know what you mean. It’s…” She thought about it for a second. “Heavy.”

A lot of words could describe it. Heavy was unquestionably one of them, grief sometimes felt like a cloudy day in the middle of summer, when rain is about to fall and humidity covers one like a cloak, suffocating one in the heat.

“And there’s still so much I have to take care of,” he answered. “I need to find someone who will take care of his horses. His room needs to be cleaned up. Don’t even mention the future burial, I don’t even know what they’ve done with his body…”

That seemed to rattle Bernadetta. She stared at him with big eyes, and what looked like pity. No sound escaped her, and when a trail of tears came down her cheek, she squealed and apologized, frantically wiping herself.

He understood what happened a few hours later. The report he never finished reading wrote that the body had never been found, lost in the riverbed. His slip of the tongue betrayed how helpless he felt, and she had been sorry enough for him she had started crying. What a mess, really. He decided that he would buy her a new paintbrush as soon as he could, as an apology.

However, this didn’t stop there. Maybe Bernadetta actually talked about his mistake, maybe he was just not that good of an actor anymore. But he found himself unable to run away when, in the deep of the night, his oldest friend came to knock on his door, to stare at him disapprovingly.

“Hubert, when was the last time you slept? I can see the light under your door every night, you know.”

Edelgard didn’t ask for permission as she penetrated in his quarters. She approached his desk, flipped through some of the paperwork he had been working on.

“My Lady, this is one dire situation we found ourselves in. You know I am just doing what needs to be done.”

“And I do not believe you,” she said when her hand finally found the one letter he couldn’t handle to read, but that was still sitting next to him, like a reminder, everytime he was sitting here.

Hubert swallowed, fighting to keep his eyes leveled up to her and not down to the ground in shame.

“What do you want from me?” he asked slowly, trying to keep the shiver of his voice in check. “Do you want me to cry? Am I not allowed to keep my sorrow to myself?”

She was not intimidated by him, her bright lavender eyes boring into his soul.

“No, you are not.”

He couldn’t repress the jolt of his shoulder when he heard that voice. It wasn’t Edelgard who had come to his door. It was the Emperor, the one he had pledged loyalty and complete obedience to.

“Please, your Majesty,” he pleaded.

“You do not have to be alone in this. None of us has. You need to let go, or it will devour you alive, Hubert.”

“I do not feel comfortable enough–”

“Hubert von Vestra. This is not a proposition; it is an order.”

So much he had buried, so much he had hidden. And a simple word from his master sufficed to make them all resurface. Anger tore through him, through his clenched fists. Dark magic started to escape his creaking gloves and burning heart. When his eyes fell on the report, he was done for.

He went for the first thing he could destroy with his own hands. His chair was kicked, some books went flying through the room, a pile of vital paperwork ended up as ashes on the floor. At last, the bloody report was torn up to pieces, and only when he saw half the name of his friend in his hand did he let the tremors he had been holding in for a week shake his chest.

Hubert stared at the floor, heaving loudly, a ringing in his head. An enraged cry escaped from his throat, some seething swears too, and he gripped his hair, hoping the pain would do something, anything.

A minute of silence slowly passed, only interrupted by the sound of his breath. He swallowed wetly, fighting against the heat pulsing between his eyebrows, and finally lifted his head again.

Edelgard was sitting on his bed, watching him patiently. He thought of telling her he was feeling better now, to lie, but nothing came out. She waited, and finally whispered :

“Come here.”

He didn’t even try to resist. Hiding between his hunched shoulders, he stepped in front of her, and fell to his knees. Her hands came around his shoulders, and brought him to make him rest his head against her stomach, like a mother cradling her child after a nightmare.

His heavy breathing turned to gags, choking him with every silent sob.

* * *

Life went on. They weren’t allowed to mourn for too long, before it was time to go back to the battlefield. War didn’t wait, after all.

Some soldiers were eager to fight. It was time for the Empire to remind Claude von Riegan of how powerless he was compared to their forces, bright mind and great allies or not. It was their turn to strike, while the enemy expected them to lick their wounds. They would not let General von Aegir’s death be in vain.

And while Hubert was no stranger to revenge, as he still dreamt, sometimes, of slowly eviscerating the ones who had destroyed his liege’s childhood; he chose to leave this one battle to the people who would actually make a difference on the field. Like he feared, some friends, mostly Caspar, inferred that he was not battling because he didn’t share their heartbreak, and got quite mad at him. Hubert didn’t even try to deny his words, he was too numb to care anymore.

He appreciated Caspar’s efforts though, because he acted the way he would’ve liked to. He appreciated his friends’ loyalty, all united to fight back and honor the one they had held deary and lost. This was what Ferdinand deserved, in the very least. No choking tears, no numbness, no burning papers. He deserved acts.

One sleepless night, while his mind was wandering far too much for his liking, he was brought back five years ago. His time at the academy, juggling between classes, training, sleep, and his most secret duties. He didn’t remember much of his first meeting with his classmates, and it had only been the years of fighting together that had made them into comrades.

When the thought that the same could be applied to Ferdinand came to him, he truly lost any hope to sleep.

He had never thought about it, because he used to not care and wouldn’t even notice, but the so-bright and smiling noble used to not be the popular kind. Well, he may have had a few admirers, but friends? All of his free time was spent reading about politics and studying tactics, on the training field, or taking care of the horses. Sometimes, Hubert saw him loitering in the cafeteria, alone, chatting with passerbys for a few minutes before being left by himself, again.

Had he been lonely? Had he been fine with it? What kind of person could just accept loneliness and still keep on trying to be better? Did he hope for acknowledgement, did he blindly follow his father’s orders, did he actually care for nobility, strength, or was he simply looking for recognition?

Still, he and Hubert may have had a rocky start, they had come around. Ferdinand had proven all of them wrong, becoming a polar star for the army by keeping a noble heart and noble desires. He’d never wronged them, he’d always thought ahead, for his battalion, for the Empire, for his beliefs.

Ferdinand had been alone, but he never changed for anyone. Well, he obviously matured like the rest of them, stopped screaming his name on the battlefield like a child playing war; but he didn’t waver. It was them, who were mostly in the wrong about him, not the other way around. It only took his disappearance for Hubert to notice, like so many other things.

He thought they had become close, but who could really say? What could a cup of tea and coffee over reports once a week do against years and years of isolation? Hubert hadn’t known him. Ferdinand had never really talked to him. Hubert was nothing more than a fool, submerged under a continuously growing pile of regrets.

Still, those memories of their time together he held within him with fondness. While the army was gathering before their march to Daphnel, and the days just kept on being longer and longer, he let his mind go back to simpler times : stink eyes over their plates during lunch, a sweaty neck shining under growing hair, red cheeks and a stammer while clutching a bag of coffee beans.

This exchange in particular often occupied Hubert’s mind, when sadness was too overwhelming, and he felt like it had been years since he last didn’t hurt inside. He might’ve been taken aback at the time of this conversation, but he still remembered every word. It was not the first time he was reminded of a certain sentence, one about _a gift for someone he_ _fancied_. Nonetheless, he would never know what Ferdinand had meant, when he’d answered, in an affirmative manner. It couldn’t have been about the _fancy_ part, did it? And what had Hubert even been trying to do, when using those specific kind of words?

There was one thing that was certain, though : to this day, Hubert was still unable to figure out how he would’ve reacted, had Ferdinand meant those words. This was not a route he wanted to engage, shattered as he still was.

Maybe later. One day. Just, not now.

So he decided to take the burden into his own hands. He didn’t want to think too much about his own relationship with Ferdinand, but with the man incessantly on his mind, two nights without sleep led him to go and finally accomplish something.

Ferdinand’s quarters had not been touched, since that day. Too many memories, wounds still fresh, and Hubert’s refusal for any of it to be simply thrown away. He wanted to take care of it himself, and now, on the day before their revenge against the Empire, seemed to be the bestest of times.

He opened the door, thankful for this dorm to be near the stairs, and for Caspar to be a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t think a ghost had invaded the supposedly empty room next to his own. Candle in hand, Hubert dove inside, barely breathing.

It was still dark, he might need to light one or two other candles, but the mess was still the same as the one he remembered. Armor parts littered the floor, books were piled up on the desk, riding boots left askew, having dragged dirt on the carpet. Only the collection of blades was neatly lined up, though their shine had taken a toll after almost a month of abandon and dust.

Hubert shook his head, and started working. He wouldn’t move anything alone, but he could start organizing. Some things would be kept, to be given away; others would end up in the trash. He was here to decide what deserved to be saved, and mostly what mementos they’d allow themself to keep.

Mementos for whom, though, that was something that occupied his mind too. Ferdinand had died single, not even engaged, it seemed. He’d had one or two girlfriends during their school year, but he probably hadn’t kept in touch. Sometimes, he wondered if there was someone, out there, feeling as broken as he felt over the disappearance of the man.

Hubert opened a drawer, sweat turning cold, as his stare found a wooden box, and what looked like two thick diaries. He took them out, gloved hands softly stroking the wood. He shouldn’t have been here. He knew he was lying to himself, pretending this was his job, not that he desperately needed something to cling back to reality. Violating a dead man's intimacy was wrong. It was just a selfish wish, from a selfish man in pain.

Ferdinand wouldn’t have wanted him to open this box, or read his diary. However, dead men don't talk, and Hubert was, at his core, selfish, so he decided he would rather be haunted than facing eternal silence. He took the three objects and left the room.

When he returned to his quarters, he sat on the bed, one diary in hand. The box was on his desk, and this one he would leave closed. From the weight and noise inside, it seemed like it was holding nothing more than trinkets, memories; something he could leave on a grave, the day it would finally be dug.

The diary, however, he couldn’t resist but opening. It was a disgraceful act, to violate one’s private thoughts like this, but Hubert decided to not care, as soon as his eyes fell on the first words, and the voice he had so longed for rang in his head.

The content was unremarkable. This diary was from Ferdinand’s academy years, when his life rotated around his one-sided rivalry, classes, and evening strolls on his favorite mare. He didn’t write anything about loneliness, nor bitter feelings for the cold treatment from his classmates. He obviously didn’t mention Hubert either. This was a façade, like the rest.

But it was still something. Anything was better than silence.

For a bit, Ferdinand was alive, inside the ink, in every curl of his handwriting, and when Hubert fell asleep before having finished reading the second page, it was with a relieved smile.

* * *

Quietly, they fought, fought, and suddenly they were victorious. Claude von Riegan called for retreat while the Imperial army marched on Daphnel, no prisoners taken. They were supposed to chase after any fleeing soldier, too. And hopefully for Linhardt, who pretended having been outran, Hubert didn’t care enough to get mad about Ignatz and Raphael slipping between their fingers. Everyone knew how much the white mage hated violence, and as long as he pretended to have given his all, their troops would be contented. Their thirst for revenge was to be sated for a while.

Still, a lot of lives were lost on both sides, and the need to regroup and recover became vital. While settling camp in the outskirts of Derdriu, getting ready for their invasion of the Alliance capital, Emperor Edelgard announced that they would take their time. They would strike in less than a moon time, but no one should feel any haste. Claude was on his knees, surrounded by an army more than twice his size. Nothing could stop them anymore.

During the strategy meeting, Byleth took on the responsibility to ask their Emperor what had been on everyone’s mind for days. What were they going to do with Claude? He was an enemy, and far, far more volatile than their western one, which could be viewed as both an advantage and a risk. He could be executed, as an example, and leave any hope of revival for the Alliance to the gutter. Or he could be spared, and one day help them rebuild the continent, as long as he accepted to forget about being a king, and come to terms with being a mere pawn on Fodlan’s chessboard.

The very problem, though, was the loss of their knight. Because it was absolutely not the kind of capture that could afford to be without retaliation. And as satisfying taking the king would be, real world wasn’t chess, and a new board could never look the same, even with equivalent pieces on the board.

Edelgard had no answer yet, and asked them for a day of deliberation. She refused the aid of her two closest counselors, believing it was the kind of decision she first had to take by herself, without any kind of intrusion; and then they would all debate if necessary. This was how Hubert and Byleth came to sit near the Generals’ bonfire, looking at the stars in silence, while waiting for their Emperor to get out of her tent.

The professor was sharpening their sword, while Hubert was reading a magic tome he’d found on the corpse of a young mage. He had the habit of skipping through those kind of items, on the chance that he could study an unknown curse, might even add it to his repertory. When Byleth sheathed their blade, they slowly laid it behind themselves, and turned back with a strange little metallic case in their hands. That prompted Hubert to close his book, and study the object.

Byleth lifted the lid. There was tobacco inside, as well as some thin white translucent pieces of paper. They started to work, lining up the herbs and a little sponge-looking piece, rolling the paper, and finally, with a lick of the tongue, sealed it. When they realized Hubert had been watching, they lifted their arm, holding out the stick to him with a lifted eyebrow. He decided to take it.

Once another one was rolled, Byleth put it in their mouth, and took a piece of burning wood to lit their cigarette. Hubert let them help him, and finally, he smoke.

It was his first time trying anything like this. His father used to be quite fond of this kind of drug, and the smell quickly brought back a lot of memories, though his coughing took all of that away. He tried keeping some composure through his burning lungs, but Byleth did not make fun of him. They instructed him on how to inhale and expire the smoke, just as easily as when they were teaching him about the art of the lance.

Finally, as Byleth was almost done with their smoke, they initiated conversation.

“I heard you went and cleaned up Ferdinand’s room.”

Shame washed over him, and he didn’t dare answer. Byleth probably already knew, but he couldn’t voice it himself. He just took a breath of his smoke.

“You shouldn’t feel any remorse over it,” they insisted. “I did the same, when my father died.”

“I am not sure this is the right comparison. I was barely his friend.”

Byleth and their bright gaze bore into his own, not wavering, looking right through him.

“You cared, and mourned. We just do what we must, when it comes to saying goodbye to loved ones. No one will berate you for this.”

Something inside him pulsated, thick and disgusting, and it was not because of the smoke. He started frowning, fingertips almost breaking the little tobacco stick in half.

“I am not sure to understand what you’re implying,” he said slowly, with the darkest expression he could muster.

Silence fell around the fire. Byleth didn’t look away, clearly not impressed. Finally, a little smile broke their serious expression.

“Well, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. I understand.”

Hubert just went back to his cigarette. Yes, he knew what they were implying. No, he didn’t know if it was right, or wrong. He didn’t really care either.

The only thing he knew was the diary in his inner pocket, the pages he read every now and then, and the feeling of satiation and fear that came with it. He felt better, reading words from Ferdinand, from a time where he was alive. He felt terrible, when he saw the remaining pages getting thinner, and saw how near the end was. Because when he would finish reading, he’d be left with nothing but his feelings, and the need to put a name on them. He was not eager for that time.

That night, he read about one unremarkable day in Ferdinand’s life, about a new tea he’d decided to brew, a lost duel against Edelgard. He closed his eyes, imagined that the words were being told to him over dinner, a boring conversation about a boring day.

In his mind, Hubert rolled his eyes, but kept stroking the hand holding his own.

* * *

The wind was strong, in Derdriu, whipping Hubert’s face as he observed the troops cheering, blood dripping from the docks right into the gentle waves. The fight had been a vicious one. Claude von Riegan had plenty of tricks up his sleeve, even when facing an outrageous situation like this one, outnumbered and isolated in his own city.

Derdriu might look like the typical eastern capital, one who’d not been raised there would easily get lost. There had been so many ambushes, so many traps at the bottom of innocent little stairways. Claude had fought with all his might, and would’ve stolen victory from their hands, if only he’d been a little stronger.

However, he didn’t win. Finally, the Empire surrounded the tower where Claude had been hiding in, and Edelgard went to him, to let him choose his fate. Surrender, or die. The Alliance Leader’s bitter laugh had echoed through the battlefield. He chose surrender.

Hubert’s fingers slowly released Hilda’s wrists. She didn’t seem that shaken by their defeat, and when she sighed, it was with relief.

“Goddess, it’s finally over…”

He called one of his soldiers over to keep an eye on the axe wielder, and rejoined with the Emperor. Claude von Riegan was on his knees, looking far too smug for someone who’d had his weapon taken away and his hands still locked behind his head. He smirked when he caught Hubert in his line of sight.

“Well, I sure hope that after all of that, I’m not about to get thrown in this guy’s torture chamber.”

Edelgard decided against replying, and exchanged a few words with Hubert before turning to Byleth for their own report of the battles on the docks.

Hubert walked closer to Claude, and returned his smile. He might not like him very much, he respected his status as Master Tactician. He had given them hell, and would still get away with staying alive. He sure didn’t look like a defeated war leader.

“von Riegan,” he said slowly, with his best sardonic tone. “This might be the first time I truly enjoy seeing you. On your knees like the vermin you are, that is.”

“You like me on my knees? I wasn’t expecting that one,” he jested.

Hubert smirked, only a few centimeters away from the Almyran man, and swiftly caught his jaw.

“Watch your words, von Riegan. My lady is merciful, but had it been me, you would be sleeping with the fishes by now.”

Even though a mimic of discomfort erased his grin, the green eyes didn’t lose any of their fire.

“I am not certain what I did to deserve such antagonization. You guys declared war and invaded my territory, I merely retaliated.”

Hubert wanted to keep his cool. He had nothing to gain by playing in Claude’s hand, and letting him get the better of his feelings. However, if there was one subject that made him lose control, it was this one.

“I do not hold in a lot of regards one who leave old classmates, turned enemy or not, to rot in riverbeds.”

A flash of surprise illuminated Claude’s face, maybe a little bit of confusion too. Fearing having gone too far, having revealed too much, he released the man’s face, and took a step back. That’s when Claude barked a laugh.

How dare he. He had lost everything, and should’ve begged for forgiveness. Why was he laughing, was he making fun of Hubert, the dark, brooding, vampire-looking adviser, feeling sadness over a loss?

That just stroked the fire inside of him. Teeth clenched, absolutely furious, he asked :

“My, so this is funny to you? Do you wish for death after all?” he all but snarled, hardly keeping his icy glare in check. “I can provide.”

It took long seconds for the laughter to fade, and when finally, Claude leveled his bright green eyes to his, he quietly said, like he didn’t even realize how close he was to a very painful demise :

“Relax. I had just forgotten about that. I may have a present for y’all, actually.”

Hubert narrowed his eyes, heat growing and overflowing from him in the form of dark magic starting to seep through his gloves. Was he trying to change the subject? Did he really think of him as such an idiot?

Or, could it be…? His stomach fell, and a cold feeling washed through him. They hadn’t found any corpse. Where was the body? In what state? Just thinking about it, Hubert felt his an icy rage take over him, a voice seething in his ears, asking for cold-blooded revenge.

“Nothing morbid, I swear!” insisted Claude, when he saw the shadow starting to glow over his shoulders, dark spikes almost materializing even without his tome in hand. He spoke quickly, his sentence as a lifeline. “This is proof of my good will, if you must. I have no idea how this situation came to be, but if you ask the one in charge of invading my palace, you’ll be able to check for yourself that your beloved paladin is in the bestest of shapes.”

The magic suddenly stopped growing and moving, frozen. Around him, it seemed that no one else had heard, and would confirm that it hadn’t been a trick on his ears. Hubert blinked, his mask completely gone.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, he was not mistreated,” continued Claude, still way too relaxed compared to the bomb he had just launched unto him. “After all, when my spies told me about your mourning, I thought about using my prisoner as a hostage if needed, but I decided against it. That is not how I like to do things. Anyway, he was confined in his quarters, and submitted to a daily tea time with Lorenz, but other than that he shouldn’t be traumatized.”

Hubert barely felt Edelgard stepping next to him, and trying to catch up on their conversation. She first tried to get a reaction from him, something other than slowly widening eyes and what looked like tachycardia, and then asked for Claude to repeat what he’d just said.

“I am a lot of things, von Vestra, Your Majesty, but I am no liar. You can go check it right now. Still, could you allow me to lower my arms? I’m not going anywhere.”

“BERNADETTA!” he suddenly screamed, turning away from the defeated leader, to the big city plaza where their troops were starting to regroup. A squeak answered him from about ten meters away, and as soon as he caught sight of the young archer, Hubert made a beeline in her direction.

“You come with me,” he told her while walking. “We’re going to the palace.”

“Wha–, wait, Hubert?!”

He didn’t answer anything else, climbing behind her on her horse, and telling her to hurry. Disgusting, sticky hope had started clinging to him, and he dared not let it grow any further. Hopefully, the terrified girl didn’t try questioning him, and galloped through the city still full of cheering soldiers, to the big doors leading to the palace.

Hubert jumped off, and called for Petra, who was surveying the grounds from the back of her pegasus. She slowly descended in their direction.

“Who’s inside the castle?” he asked in a hurry. “Did you hear anything back from them?”

“Dorothea is over the armory with Randolph to keep an eye on the enemy, while soldiers are securing the whole place. What’s the alarm?”

He felt sorry for his friends, but the pumping of his heart, so loud, deafening even, would not let him explain himself. He ran for the widely opened and heavily guarded front doors, and then across the large entrance hall, and two flights of stairs. His race crossed the one of a young knight, who shouted in the direction of the battalion stationed in the gardens.

“We found General von Aegir, he’s alive! He’s well, and alive!”

Hubert found himself rooted in place, when he arrived on the doorstep of the armory, and caught sight of Dorothea embracing a tall man with bright long hair. Relieved sobs were shaking her small shoulders, and strong arms were hesitantly trying to return the hug.

Next to him, he heard gasps, a cry of a name that had never truly stopped ringing like a scream in his head. Bernadetta took shaky steps in the direction of her friend, supported by Petra who had shiny eyes and the biggest smile he had ever seen her wear. Ferdinand finally lifted his head from the still sobbing mage, bright maroon eyes catching the sunlight.

The broken watch resumed its tickling. But Hubert didn’t move.

He stayed on that spot, as joy and relief poured over his allies. Dorothea was unconsolable, vainly trying to wipe her face, while Petra took her place in the arms of the paladin, Bernadetta simply clinging to her back, still not so fond of contact.

Hubert daren’t move, fearing it would break the moment, that reality would catch him back. The man in front of them was so confused, but he was no ghost. His voice rang in Hubert’s ears, trying to calm the flow of tears of the girls in his arms, and it was his real voice. Not the one he’d imagined in his head while reading a stolen diary, not the one of his memories, stuck in time, ever so lost in the abyss of souvenir.

Finally, the paladin caught sight of him, in reaction to words from Petra that he didn’t catch. What was he seeing? Hubert probably looked like everything but himself, red-faced, out of breath, wet eyes, a mess. On the opposite, Ferdinand was beautiful, real, healthy, and still as radiant as he remembered. His hair had been a bit mussed by Dorothea’s embrace, but he looked perfect as always, even without his usual knight attire, even in a simple white shirt and dark slacks. His cheeks were glowing, dark and alive.

Ferdinand smiled at him, almost sheepish. He couldn’t stand it.

Hubert nodded once, and turned around. He pretended he needed to report back to Edelgard, that he’d be back soon, and walked out of the palace, barely hiding his wheezing breath.

If soldiers found him even paler than usual, strangely frenetic as he gave orders; they said nothing of it. He kept his mind occupied as he walked back to the docks, to his liege, to inform her once again about the life status of Ferdinand von Aegir.

But as soon as relief washed over Edelgard, and he caught the bright eyes of his professor, his duty escaped him. He found himself unable to run away, not anymore.

As soon as he’d seen Ferdinand look at him, as soon as that hesitant but brilliant smile had lighten up his handsome face, Hubert had had only one thought.

_Oh, goddess, how I love him._

Really. It had taken mourning him, and then finding him alive, to barely admit this to himself. To understand that this pain, the fire, the numbness, came from him crying over not a friend, but someone he’d come to be in love with.

What a mess he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> This is my first time writing about Fire Emblem, but when I finally bought and played FE3H, I fell, let's say, _hard_. And I specially didn't expect to fall that hard for Hubert, and also obviously Ferdibert.
> 
> And what do I do when I love characters? Make them suffer, I guess! I saw a few fanarts (mostly [Zaheelee's](https://zaheelee.tumblr.com/post/611951476489715712/things-left-unsaid)) and probably tweets/headcanons passing by, about Myrddin; and I got really interested in writing Hubert's reaction to that event. I had my first experience with grief already a year ago, and that's probably why I also wanted to find a place to explore this kind of feeling, based on my owns. It was even more interesting with a character like Hubert, and trust me when I say I spend hours trying to keep him as in character as possible.
> 
> Still, I'm a big baby, and I also really wanted to write some Ferdibert fluff, so that's why Ferdie survives. Sorry for anyone who thought it was a real Character Death, same for those who didn't want to read about chara death (I did the best that I could without completely spoiling the contents in the tags). That fluff/comfort will be in the second part, that I'll start writing very soon.
> 
> I also wanted to point out that I may have quite a lot of experience as a fanfiction writer, it's the first time in almost ten years of writing that I tried to do it in english. I've become so used to writing in french, I was and still am a lil bit insecure about my style in english (it was also hard as shit), so please, if you find any mistake or weird sentences, don't hesitate to tell me about it in the comments!
> 
> Now, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, I'll start working on the other part asap!!
> 
> EDIT : it didn't even come to my mind when I started writing+publishing, but my version of Hubert is based on the original Japanese dialogues. Which, you may not know it, means a completely different characterization, especially concerning Ferdinand and Hubert's relationship.
> 
> So yeah, my Hubert never calls Ferdie a "degenerate" (oh my god what the fuck happened with the translation process), he is always extremely polite even when they are "arguing" (honestly in the jp script it's more banter than anything), & also post-timeskip Hubert is clearly very awkward and I would dare to say sweet with Ferdinand, not in the "get out of my school" type anymore (that's definitely the vibe I get from him preskip), just "that dude who tries to be nice to his crush but fails miserably". Seeing him insult Ferdinand in the english version baffled me a little.
> 
> So, yeah. I really couldn't write a mean Hubert, every time I read fanfics with the two of them throwing insults at the other, I die inside. It's noone's fault but the translation process honestly (I wouldn't even blame the translators themselves, it might be because of a short deadline/idiot higher-ups). But I realized it might be necessary to say it. And also if you didn't know about it, I'm happy to share the information!


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, all my love and gratitude go to [@GaikotsuRamen](https://twitter.com/GaikotsuRamen) on twitter (and [Ramen (BlushingTeddybear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingTeddybear/pseuds/Ramen) on Ao3), my sweet beta and friend, who really helps making this mess (haha) readable, erasing so many commas bc my french ass likes those way too much.
> 
> Enjoy!!

With a clink of porcelain, Hubert was woken up from his daze.

“Something on your mind?”

He blinked. He was in the gardens of the monastery, at a table. In front of him, there was a tea set, a coffee kettle too. He drank from his cup, and frowned at the absence of taste, like he’d merely had a cup of water. He sighed :

“I won’t buy from this maker again.”

Ferdinand just smiled, a teacup perched between his fingertips. It seemed like a miracle he hadn’t poured it all over himself yet. He giggled, so bright, almost sparkling.

“How about you just stopped drinking mud, and took better care of your health?”

He snorted.

“It seems frighteningly boring.”

A smug smile pulled at the General’s lips.

“And god forbid Hubert von Vestra from being afraid, am I right?”

His tone was unusual, and Hubert started to feel that something was wrong, in their situation. Ferdinand had a weird light in his eyes, they were far too bright, almost mocking. He couldn’t help it, he immediately closed himself off.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Ferdinand just kept on smiling, so fake, so cold, waving his cup of tea with every word.

“When was the last time you allowed yourself to simply be scared?”

Hubert frowned. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Ferdinand, not with anyone. And it really looked like the tea was about to get spilled, it was getting annoying.

“Be careful.”

“Why?”

The teacup was violently put on the table. It was only then that Hubert saw his own hand, and how tantalizingly close an other one was to it.

“Why are _you_ so careful?”

Hubert brought his eyes back to the man in front of him. He was not sitting on his chair anymore. He was only a few centimeters away, staring right into him, into his soul. So close. Always so close.

“Why won’t you take the step?” he kept on going, his voice going lower.

Ferdinand was sitting on his lap now, bathed in the warm light of candles, and had no clothes on his back. His long, sun-colored locks brushed and fell over his naked shoulders, as he brought his arms around Hubert’s neck like a noose.

“Why won’t you take _me_?”

One shocked breath, and a mouth was devouring his own, burning hot. Feverish, dizzy, he was overwhelmed by those lips, this tongue, so wet, a blazing fire – he couldn’t even react. And the sounds, pleading, needy, echoed in his head so, so empty of any thoughts other than ‘ _more’_.

He might have fainted. The tongue curling against his own became a furnace. He started tasting blood, and went to look for more. The arms around him went heavy, and he saw them black, charred, in the corner of his eyes. Still, he kept on embracing him, a thirsty man in the middle of the desert, parched for any affection, any contact. And the voice became seething, one of a snake, while maroon bordering red eyes stared at him furiously.

“Why won’t you, before it’s too late?”

Hubert woke up with a start.

It took him a few instants to take note of his surroundings, reminding himself of where he’d been when he’d fallen asleep. In his armchair, right next to the fireplace, which explained how hot he felt. The tightness in his slacks, though, was another kind of problem, hopefully quickly taken care of by the discomfort in his stomach. Finally, the contents of his dream fell unto him, and he pressed the arch of his hands on his eyelids.

He wouldn’t get away that easily, did he. After so many weeks of pain caused by a man he thought he’d lost, he was incessantly afraid of losing him, again. Of losing his chance – if he ever could imagine having one – to share the troubling feelings burning him alive, even in the confines of his dreams.

But he could endure it, he reminded himself. Hubert von Vestra was not so weak he was to be crushed by his pathetic situation. Everything was right in the world once again. Ferdinand von Aegir was alive, body and mind perfectly healthy, as Claude had promised. This was enough.

Ferdinand had told them he had no idea the Empire thought him dead. The first reason had been that no one had planned for this : he had been struck off his horse during battle, right into the river, and his body had not been found by Ladislava’s soldiers. Obviously she had declared him dead, there was no time for sentimentality during war, and especially not enough time to scour riverbeds. Claude, when he’d heard this back from his spies, had decided to leave this situation be. This mourning period could’ve been his key to victory – too bad for him, it had been his downfall instead.

Still, there had been a big emotional response to the return of their precious paladin and general. Some young knights who’d been studying under him cried out of relief, his closest friends became overly exuberant in their happiness, and even Edelgard had an emotional heart-to-heart with him.

Hubert was absolutely incapable of doing any of that.

It had been too much, too quickly. If he’d heard of his survival a week before the fight, he would’ve had time to prepare himself and decide of his own way of welcoming back his friend. However, not only had he gotten nothing but a handful of minutes between the revelation and his meeting, he’d also had this bloody epiphany – his feelings, thrown right into his face by the simplest of smiles.

Hubert had to keep some distance for awhile, for his own sake. He needed to readjust himself to his old ways, now that anger or numbness had no reason to be felt. He had to go back to his duty as a shadow, all-knowing, poker-faced.

These kind of dreams were unacceptable.

* * *

However, Edelgard wanted the army to rest and enjoy their win for awhile. This meant more free time, which meant a need for entertainment, which meant parties. One big party, to be exact, one he wasn’t allowed to be running from, because it would also be the official celebration of the return of their General. He had to be there, he _wanted_ to be there.

It was a good night, nonetheless. He stayed as far as he could from the main commotion, composed of – unsurprisingly – the hero of the night, Dorothea, Caspar, Petra, and – most surprisingly – Bernadetta. It seemed she had a little bit to drink, and it had really lowered her inhibitions. She even walked straight to Hubert, who was enjoying his night by lightly chatting with Linhardt and Edelgard, to ask him to join their card game as they were missing one player.

He knew he should’ve accepted. Staying so far off was very suspicious, even for him. But as soon as his eyes crossed wide, maroon ones, his face closed itself and he told her to ask someone else. Edelgard ended up joining, and Linhardt judging him silently. Ferdinand didn’t say anything anyway. It was probably fine. Linhardt sighed louder.

As midnight approached, the gathering dissolved on its own. Hubert could’ve taken that as his cue to leave, but Edelgard was still there, chatting quietly with Ferdinand a few meters away from the group. They seemed to be in the middle of quite the heavy conversation, but their smile told him everything he needed to know. His liege had discovered she had a lot of regrets, and she actually decided to act on them, unlike Hubert. Not that he could pretend to be surprised.

A servant came to him and delivered a note asking him for a meeting. This was about the training of a young but very promising scout, by all means the perfect excuse for him saying goodnight to his friends. He still took care of asking a soldier of his own to keep an eye on the dying party, especially on their Emperor. You never know.

He finished late after midnight, when all the festivities had long since come to an end. The evening had nonetheless left him quite stressed out, the many restless nights and nightmares too, and it guided him on a night walk, because patrolling usually made him feel better, safer.

That’s when he saw someone on the bridge leading to the cathedral, and certainly no nobody, as if he wouldn’t recognise this shade of bright long hair, even illuminated by moonlight.

Hubert really should’ve stayed in the dark. Leave it be, just like he had done all evening. But the air around his friend, looking at the stars, made him remember the sight of a lonely boy in the stables; of a man once terribly alone, even during troubling times. He had to move. They had been almost friends, it wasn’t fair to disappear without even one word.

It was hard to be discreet as he walked along the bridge. Ferdinand quickly realized he wasn’t alone anymore, turning his head toward his visitor, and his eyes widened as soon as he saw him. A few more steps proved Hubert’s theory to be right : Ferdinand was not merely looking at the stars, his body language told him he was here because of angsty feelings.

It was to be expected. How were you to react, when you met with your friends and understood they’d spent weeks mourning you. Hubert didn’t even know how _he_ was supposed to act now that everything had turned out to be a terrible and terrifying misunderstanding.

Still, he felt the need to talk first. Though maybe it was the nerves, more than him, spelling words.

“I wish you wouldn’t fall in a river again, if you might.”

The night was clear of clouds, and the starlight so bright it reflected on the man’s teeth as he smiled. A nervous laughter escaped Ferdinand, who quickly tucked one lock of hair behind his ear, and turned his gaze towards the scenery.

“Good evening, Hubert. I wasn’t expecting anyone at this time.”

“You should be aware that I often work until dawn.”

Something akin to a wince stretched his face. Ferdinand cleared his throat, and crossed his arms, resolutely not looking at him.

“I – I _know_ , but still. I might’ve also hoped we wouldn’t meet so soon.”

It was chilly at this time of the year. But it wasn’t the wind that made Hubert suddenly feel so cold. He couldn’t help his voice from lowering towards dangerous tones.

“Is that so? I apologize if my being here bothers you.”

“Do not play this game with me, von Vestra,” he immediately replied, on the verge of annoyance. “I do not wish for it, but please be quick with your admonitions. The earlier the better, I guess…”

Hubert frowned, and slowly crossed his arms too, like this would protect him from the incoming conversation.

“Why would I admonish you?”

“You tell me!” exclaimed Ferdinand, finally looking at him right in the eyes, a dark blush of shame covering his face. “I know of the repercussions that followed my failure in Myrddin, I know a lot of people were deeply hurt, and I absolutely despise this situation. I _know_ and I will never forgive myself for it, for the tears I brought to Dorothea and the blood that was shed in my name for no other reason than my own weakness.”

Ferdinand clenched his jaw, like he was trying to repress more words, but still added :

“I know you’re disappointed in me. You might even think I tried to betray the Empire. I have no excuses or proof of my unwavering faith to give you. But I do not need you telling me all of that. Like I just told you – _I know_.”

Hubert blinked, once, twice. The raw feeling of misery in his friend’s voice was not easy to hear, nor was his misinterpretation. He shook his head, and sighed, feeling extremely tired just thinking about what would come next. He wished so much for his bed, for sleep, for oblivion. Everything but this.

“Ferdinand, it never crossed my mind to blame you. For anything.”

“Don’t lie! I’ve seen your face in Derdriu, you were livid!”

Ferdinand was hurt, and scared. His world had changed its axis while he was having tea with Lorenz, and he was absolutely powerless. Hubert being his cold, uncaring demeanor did no good in this situation. Goddess, how he hated himself, at this instant.

“I…” He swallowed, and forced himself to say it, though it ripped him apart to mumble those oh so revealing few words. “I was very upset, Ferdinand. I still am. However, it is not against you.”

“Then who?” he insisted.

“Myself, I guess.”

The wind made the nearby flags snap, filling the silence that fell unto the two of them. Ferdinand seemed very confused, looking for words.

“I… do not understand.”

“Clearly.”

“I mean, I have seen the emotion of the others, when I came back.” He scratched his jaw, lost, whereas Hubert tried to regain some composure by holding his hands tight behind his back. “I still do not know exactly how to handle it, but I guess I came to expect it, when I saw Dorothea, or Bernadetta’s reactions… in your case, though… are you telling me…?”

He snapped without a pause.

“I would prefer if we didn’t talk about it.”

Once again, that light of hurt shone in the maroon eyes. However, it wasn’t about his own situation, nor self-depreciation. It was, without any doubt, pity.

“Hubert…”

“This is not a joke, Ferdinand. I don’t want to have this discussion.”

The paladin opened his mouth, stubborn man that he was. Yet, he let the subject drop. That clearly didn’t mean this wouldn’t come up again, it would probably very soon, but it was still a fairly successful escape, for now.

“So you're not mad at me?” he said instead.

“I couldn’t, truly. I regret that you came to think me being… distant, was a sign of coldness and anger. It wasn’t my intention. I am glad to have you back.”

There, he had said all the words he was supposed to. Now, he could retreat safely, until his annoying fondness came to pass. Things would go back to how they were before, as they should.

But damn that man, who reacted as he always did, with an infuriatingly handsome smile. The kind of sight that made Hubert forget about the mask he’d spent years crafting, and dragged selfish envies out of him. For example, the wish to smile back. The wish to lift a hand and gently tuck some hair behind an ear. The wish to succumb to gentleness, and let horrifying proofs of weakness leave his mouth.

“Thank you, Hubert. I am glad to be back too.”

They were at war, however. And there was no time for _gentleness_. Hubert simply bid him his farewell, and walked straight back to his room, thinking that he had succeeded in smoothing things over, in the very least for now.

Then, Rhea’s army appeared right at their door.

To say it was a massacre was to lightly put it. Their army was still fragile from their recent confrontation in Derdriu, and they were caught by surprise, having no such time to strategize further than “kill everyone not wearing the Empire’s colors”. A lot of villagers were caught in the fights as well. They came out victorious, but to a terrible price.

Hubert was the one who ended Flayn’s long existence. Cornered from all sides, fallen from her pegasus, she was about to get impaled, or decapitated. He, who’d almost killed Claude on the spot thinking he’d left an old friend die a miserable death, didn’t wish to become what he abhorred. So he asked every soldier to take a step back, and slowly walked towards the seemingly young girl.

She was terrified, when he took her hand and discreetly slipped the poisonous needle right into the vein of her wrist. It would feel like falling asleep, but knowing what was coming for her, she quietly begged for her life, and, finally, whispered a call for her father, before turning heavy in his arms. Hubert closed her eyelids, and left her on the ground, for Seteth to found her if he ever managed to survive.

The man’s cries of distress echoed on the battlefield, and reminded Hubert of his own, not so long ago. It might be crueler to make one survive and grieve instead of letting him go, but with any luck, Seteth wouldn’t be able to escape from the battlefield he had himself created. This was not Hubert’s call to make.

This also quickly became the last of his concerns, when the troops assembled at the foot of the monastery, after their attackers withdrew their forces. He quickly went to his Lady’s side, seeing her hopefully unharmed though Amyr was shining red, and couldn’t help but review the crowd afterwards. No sign of long orange hair. He kept on looking, waiting for Ferdinand to emerge from the crowd, or from behind a building. He was nowhere to be seen.

He hated himself at this instant, but he caught Petra’s arm as soon as she walked by.

“Could you please fly and tell me if you can catch sight of von Aegir?”

She blinked almost owlishly, but nodded and ran back to her mount, to get some height and scan the battlefield. Hubert kept an eye on her, hands clenched next to his thighs, and his mouth terribly dry.

“Hubert, I know you are bound to be restless in this situation, but you shouldn’t be so impatient,” said Byleth, their tone verging on patronizing. “Ferdinand’s whole battalion is still mostly missing, and they were fighting on the first line. They’re not that late, give them time.”

“You never know.”

They just stared at him, and once again, he could see it. Pity. They thought he was acting irrationally, and he might’ve. He would probably hate himself for it later. When he would know Ferdinand was safe. Until then, he didn’t care.

He called Petra, and asked her if she could find anything. She was concentrated on her spyglass, and raised a hand to ask him to wait. His furiously beating heart hated this absence of answer, and the lack of reaction of the ones around him as well.

Finally, she closed her fingers and only her thumb remained in the up position. She’d found him. His fists finally unclenched, he started breathing again. Less than two meters away, Byleth and Edelgard were talking quietly, and he knew it was probably about him. Considering his luck, some other soldiers had caught him in his anxious state, and rumors would spread like wildfire. Damn. He should’ve cared.

Finally, General von Aegir, high on his horse, appeared from behind the city’s bakery. Some of his knights quickly broke formation, though, and he heard them ask for a healer. Meanwhile, Ferdinand was slowly dismounting, way too slowly, while some of his soldiers asked him to stay put. As soon as he touched ground, one of his knees gave up, and the commotion around him got louder.

Hubert walked without thinking, only beaten by Linhardt who was cursing under his breath. He ordered everyone to step back and let him work, once again cursing _‘that idiot’_ very loudly while forcing him to lay down and let him look at his obviously hidden injuries.

“Report to me. What happened?” Hubert asked when he arrived, calming the war mare by letting her nuzzling his hand.

“We were about to regroup with everyone, Sir, when a Wyvern Rider attacked us,” a soldier reported. She bit her lip, clearly upset. “He seemed mad with anger, and didn’t care for any injury. He clearly wanted to die bringing as many of us with him, and intended to use some kind of explosive. General von Aegir jumped from his horse to tackle him down, and the Wyvern attacked him, throwing him away from its master. The Rider escaped, and we thought General von Aegir was alright when he just got back up after a few minutes, but…”

It had been Seteth. Seteth, who wanted revenge, craved for blood, after losing a loved one. Surely he didn’t know he’d almost done the same to Hubert, like some kind of equivalent exchange.

He thanked the soldier, and went to Ferdinand’s side, asking Linhardt about his diagnosis. The healer sighed, clearly his favorite thing to do these days.

“This _imbecile_ hasn’t broken anything, that’s the good news. But he’s been bitten, and got quite the concussion, a serious one to boot. He’ll survive, I guess, but we’ll still have to watch over him, like we have time for that.”

Hubert knew him enough to discern that all of his complaining was his own way of hiding how relieved he was.

“The infirmary is already full, I suppose?”

“Yeah, he’ll have to stay in bed though, so his room will do. We’ll also need someone to check on him every two hours for at least forty-eight hours.”

“I’ll find that for you.”

The healer sat back on his heels, raking a hand through his hair and mumbling about how long it’d gotten. He asked for the closest soldiers to help their grunting General on his feet, and bring him back to his quarters in the Monastery. Hubert decided to take the mare's reigns and to guide her to the stables himself.

“Linhardt, I swear I’m fine…” the very pale and nauseated-looking paladin keened.

“Yeah sure, tell that again when you won’t fail to remember who I am,” Linhardt grumbled. “Oh, and Hubert,” he called. “Just take care of him yourself, won’t you? It will save all of us a lot of time, I bet.”

“Pardon?” He stopped on his tracks, confused. “It’s not as if we are truly missing workforce, and may I remind you that I, too, have quite the workload.”

“Shut up, Hubert.”

He didn’t try to argue any further with the healer, rolling his eyes at the thought of him acting as Ferdinand’s nurse. He would just find someone else after taking care of the poor horse and having done his report to the Emperor. Better have someone who wouldn’t cause a heart attack if you were to wake up to their sight near your bed.

“Oh, Hubert, you’re here. I asked for my secretary to directly send any paperwork to your quarters,” her Majesty Edelgard informed him as soon as he found her again, already back to her office. That made him freeze in place.

“Something’s wrong with Hubie’s office?” wondered Dorothea, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Oh no, Linhardt told me Hubert would be the one watching over Ferdinand for the next few days, that is all.”

A delighted laugh escaped from the young singer.

“Aww, Hubie, this is so sweet!”

“I haven’t agreed to any of this,” he sighed. “Your Majesty, please don’t bother, someone else will take care of it.”

Edelgard lifted her head from the papers she had been reading, and blinked, seeming caught off guard.

“But, Hubert, this is a very good idea, don’t you think? You’re qualified, you do not need a lot of sleep, and your work does not necessitate you moving a lot.”

“At least not the job _we_ are aware of,” Dorothea added, still full of mirth. He didn’t even try to bother with her childish demeanor.

“This is ridiculous. There’s too much to take care of right now, we need to be ready in case Seteth comes for another suicidal attack.”

“You just seemed very anxious about the whole ordeal,” Edelgard explained. “Also, he would probably be happier to be visited by a friend than a stranger. You didn’t have a lot of time to meet since he came back too. I can’t fathom what the problem is, you’re perfectly capable working from your own quarters.”

The truly lost expression of his oldest friend’s face made him speechless. Goddess, Dorothea just kept on snickering, and soldiers were already spreading rumors, but Edelgard seemed completely unaware of his own predicament. This was awful.

He didn’t like the disappointment in his Lady’s eyes. And she was right, in a sense, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, to go and check every two hours. But no one knew about the last time he’d been to Ferdinand’s room. And if there was one thing he was ready to be running from all of his life, it would be this shameful act of his.

He also knew he would never get a better moment to confess his crimes. He would probably be able to get away with it quite easily too – his excuse of looking for mementos to leave on a grave were convincing. He could lie.

He wouldn’t, though. He could evade the subject, straight up refuse to answer Ferdinand, but not lie about this. Never about this.

So he found himself knocking on Ferdinand’s door, and entering when there was no answer. That, at least, would save him from the pain of explaining why he was holding a familiar wooden box and two diaries in his hands. He left them on the desk, the explanation would come later, and started working on waking up his friend.

He hadn’t been washed up, yet his armor had been removed. Hubert would ask for warm water to be brought with his dinner later. Still, he shook his head at the sight of the broad freckled shoulders, the halo of bright orange on the pillow, and the slightly parted rosy lips. He ought to be ashamed, it really wasn’t the time to be controlled by his bloody feelings.

Hubert called his name, loud enough for eyelids to start twitching. Luckily, Ferdinand was a soldier, and had been trained to be a light sleeper, ready in the case of an emergency. He didn’t even need to be touched to wake up.

That was a good sign, at least. Hubert helped the injured man in sitting up, trying very hard to not lower his gaze to what the pooling sheets could not hide anymore.

“Can you tell me who you are?” he asked slowly, trying to keep a gentle tone.

A whisper answered him.

“Hubert…?”

“That would’ve been my next question, but let’s take it slow. Please tell me your name.”

Sleep was still hindering his reactions. He managed to answer anyway.

“I’m Ferdinand von Aegir.” He paused, and gave him a pained smile. “And I’m about to get shout at.”

“Well, you’re not wrong this time.”

He wasn’t mad, he’d been way too worried for that. But he knew exactly where Ferdinand’s guilt laid at, and he really didn’t want to remind himself of this. Ferdinand jumping in the mouth of a Wyvern to save his troops was not the most stupid thing he’d ever done. However, after confessing how weak and guilty he’d felt after his loss and supposedly death in Myrddin, Hubert had easily connected the dots. He’d tried to be a hero, once again, to prove himself he was worthy of everyone’s trust, and as a result, he would be called an idiot by Linhardt for at least a few weeks.

“But I’ll save the lecture for another time,” Hubert sighed. “Do you know where we are?”

He answered all of his questions correctly, and his pupils were reacting normally, so Hubert just checked on his injuries, mostly one enormous but mild bite mark on the shoulder. He informed him he would wake him up every two hours, and that he wouldn’t be far if he needed anything. Just brushing the alarm sigil Hubert had carved on everyone’s bedpost would suffice.

Ferdinand thanked him warmly, and it didn’t take long for him to fall right back asleep. He huffed a sigh, and returned to his own quarters.

Two hours later, he knocked again, but got an answer this time. Ferdinand had probably been woken up by the smell of food sitting in front of his door, and Hubert brought in both the warm water and meal. He once again tested Ferdinand’s reactions and lucidity successfully, and the bedridden man asked if he was allowed to get up and dress himself on his own after his bath.

Truly, Hubert would’ve loved to tell him that yes, of course he could leave him by himself. But, so shortly after his injury, he had to watch over him in case he felt dizzy or fainted while he was up. Luckily, Ferdinand didn’t feel bashful, and as soon as he was finished inhaling his food, he got up, and only briefly stumbled before walking to the bucket placed in front of his mirror, taking a sponge, a towel, and starting to clean himself as well as checking on his pretty ugly wound. Hubert politely looked over to the window while his friend washed any remaining blood and dirt from his skin, though his hair would have to wait for a few more days.

Hubert took the opportunity of Ferdinand dressing himself to leave the bucket out of the room. He didn’t want to risk the images his mind would provide if he saw the other man putting on a new pair or smallclothes. The sight of his buttocks had been enough, he would never look at peaches in quite the same way.

“By the way, Hubert, I know I’m a little late…” Ferdinand said, as he was buttoning up a fresh shirt. “But why are you the one taking care of me?”

“That’s a very good question,” he said with a sigh while closing the door, then approaching his friend to help him get in bed again. “One I wish I had an answer to.” Ferdinand shook his head, clearly not satisfied with his answer.

“I am not complaining, far from it. But this is a rather peculiar mission they gave you. I’m intrigued.”

“Linhardt wanted to get back at both of us for being idiots, and convinced Her Majesty as well, that’s my hypothesis.”

“Us? Well, now I wish to know about which idiocy _you_ could be guilty of.”

Hubert actually paused, while Ferdinand sat back against his pillow, smoothing it over, and wincing when brushing a hand in his hair. It was probably the best time to make amends, while Ferdinand was in a good mood, and the conversation had an easy flow.

“I actually have to apologize to you.”

That gave him quite the reaction. Ferdinand stared at him with owlish eyes, seemingly unbelieving of what he’d just heard.

“An apology… to me? Should I check for a concussion on _your_ side?”

Hubert rolled his eyes, unwilling to fall into that trap. He decided to just go for it, and stepped back to the desk, while he designated the items with a hand movement.

“I had to give those back. It took some time, I know, but it was quite embarrassing, and I couldn’t build the nerve to just– Ferdinand, are you ok?”

The almost teasing look was long gone, and Ferdinand’s whole face had become beet-red. He almost got out of bed, shrieking with panic :

“W-W-Why do you have that?!”

“I was about to explain it to you,” he mumbled. “We wanted something akin to a memento, for the day we thought we’d be able to bury you. That’s what I found.”

“WHAT?”

Hubert closed his eyes, like this would protect him from the screeching coming out of his friend’s throat.

“I didn’t open it, if it reassures you–”

“Oh, Goddess, please tell me you’re joking, on my _tomb_?! Please! This is the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever lived, oh, no, no, no!”

Even muffled by his pillow in which he’d burrowed his face, Ferdinand’s booming voice was very clearly coming through. Meanwhile, Hubert had finally gotten the memo : that box did _not_ contain anything that should be put on a grave.

Still, the corner of his eyes caught the wooden box, and curiosity got the best of him. He didn’t want to check before, because he thought this would be an offend to a dead man. He definitely wanted to see _now_.

“Don’t you dare–!” he snarled, jumping out of his bed and almost falling, when Hubert swiftly caught the box and took a large step back, buying himself enough time to check the insides of this _oh so_ _shameful_ little secret.

He raised the lid, then froze. Ferdinand gave up soon enough, too weak and embarrassed to fight with him. He let himself fall face first on his mattress, and let out a very, very long groan of despair.

“Hubert, you are _pure evil_ , and here I thought I was about to get an apology! May the goddess curse you, forever!”

He slowly closed his mouth, and gulped down some saliva. Then, he placed the box right back on the desk. And, finally :

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t die, is it?”

“Quite! Still wish I was dead right now, though!”

Hubert stole a glance to the bedridden man, his bright hair a mess around his extremely red face. A man who had just been found to possess, in his drawer, quite the collection of _tools_ , pleasure ones, but not the kind which were to simulate a woman's touch.

He couldn’t help it. Through the confusion, shock, and, let’s be honest, buzzing arousal; he let out a snort.

Ferdinand’s eyes widened, and his expression could hardly express more awkwardness.

“Hubert!” he yelled, absolutely irate. “Are you making fun of me?”

“You have to admit, this is pretty funny.”

A pillow thrown his way answered him. And seeing as the next thing Ferdinand could use to attack him from afar was his collection of blades, Hubert decided for a tactical retreat. He laughed the whole way leading to his own room anyway.

* * *

Two hours later, Ferdinand was still very mad, and very embarrassed, but the box was gone, and not a word exchanged about the subject. He just told Hubert to, in his own words ‘shut up’, to which he replied that he would, for as long as he lived. That seemed to be enough.

The diaries, though, were right there, now sitting next to the bed. He guessed Ferdinand had been rifling through them to keep himself awake, though it was already bordering on midnight. The night would be long.

“I was sincere, when I apologized,” Hubert said. “I cannot lie to you about this : I read into your journal.”

Once again, red came to cover the paladin’s face, who slowly asked :

“Did you read everything?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Why didn’t I read everything?”

“Why did you _read_ it?”

Ferdinand was not as ashamed about the content of his diaries as he had been about his secret box – that was understandable – but he still had a weary expression on his face, one of a man who would not accept anything but the truth. Hubert gave in, too shameful to refuse that from him.

“You were alive, inside the ink. That was my way of not letting go.”

A light of sympathy shone in the maroon eyes, and it felt way worse than anger. Here it was, once again, pity. He probably deserved it.

“You look so afraid, Hubert.”

A master archer couldn’t have hit the target better. Hearing those words made something hurt, inside him, in a place he’d been trying not to touch, as if leaving it be would make it go away naturally.

“You give me a reason to, when you jump into the jaws of a monster,” he answered instead, immediately closing off his heart, his face, from any feeling trying to escape him.

“I am a General in the army, I am bound to get hurt. You shouldn’t have to worry about anyone but the Emperor. I gave my life for Edelgard to use as she pleases, just like you did.”

“You do not know what it feels like.”

He frowned a little, piqued by Hubert’s defiant tone.

“Pardon me, Hubert, as I feel so conflicted. On one hand, I am glad to discover so many feelings from those around me. I’ve never felt so loved, it’s a shame I had to seemingly die to have my eyes opened. I am a very lucky man, gifted by the best companionship and loyalty a man can dream for.”

He took a breath, and swallowed a tremor in his voice.

“And on the other hand, I am devastated. All the ones I love have suffered because of me, and now, they watch me like they’re expecting me to disappear once again, for good this time. This is not even something I can fix. I do not know grief like you do, but you do not know my sense of guilt either.”

Finally, Ferdinand lifted his head, and looked at him straight in his eyes, almost begging him.

“Please. Just let me gain your trust again. Let me convince you all that I am not a ghost, and that I’ll never disappear again.”

But he couldn’t. The deed had been done. Never could he erase the memories of him, choking over a report, of Dorothea’s cries, and of days, and days of numbness.

During that whole speech, Hubert had kept his hands clenched behind his back, holding himself upright, keeping his hands from doing something foolish, like stroke a reddened cheek. He silently nodded, and only let his hand go to turn the door handle.

Something had changed, when Ferdinand had died. Hubert now felt fear. Freezing, numbing fear, all the time, of waking up, of a misstep, of a tragic conclusion. He’d never thought about it before, and now, it was in his mind, all the time. He was, truly, done for.

Sick in his heart, he didn’t stop at his own door. He went down the stairs, to the first floor, until he found the room he was looking for. Linhardt looked ready to kill when he opened, though it became exhaustion when he recognised the dark mage.

“An emergency came. I leave Ferdinand to you.”

He crossed his arms, lifting one judgemental eyebrow. And mumbled, as Hubert ran away :

“...you idiot.”

* * *

He got all the distraction he needed. As soon as Ferdinand was finally allowed to leave his own bed, Hubert had been approached by Lord Arundel with a very peculiar request. Experiences on Demonic Beasts had turned them out of control, and that snake wanted him to clean up the mess. He truthfully had no choice on the matter, and would’ve gladly spat in his face, but he acted his role and accepted.

Luckily for him, the Death Knight had just returned from a scouting mission in the North and was thirsty for blood and carnage. They were able to leave Ferdinand to watch over the monastery, and the paladin took to his mission without blinking. Still, Hubert could see grudge in his eyes while he was leading the troops away, for clearly going against his friend’s wish of proving himself worthy.

This look stayed on his mind for a while, as quite the number of fellow generals had their own mission in Brigid, and the soldiers eagerly left him to his usual brooding self, alone. The only other persons of his rank were Jeritza and Byleth, truly not the best conversation partners anyway.

They set camp in the underwoods of the Sealed forest, hasting with their preparations as the cries of the Beasts kept getting closer, barely repressed by Arundel’s minions who were quite incapable in keeping them from leaving the woods. He couldn’t believe he actually had to go and help those snakes, but the opportunity was too good to let by. It was the perfect occasion to test their soldiers’ worth, and be better prepared for the day his own personal war would start.

Hubert had worked with this goal in mind for what felt like his whole life, and he’d never been closer to success. Those Who Slither In The Dark had put their trust in them, and they were finally winning the war. Sure, taking Arianrhod would be no walk in the park, marching to Fhirdiad wouldn't either. Dimitri was still there, dreaming of the day he’d take the head of his stepsister, and he’d be ruthless when the day of his and Edelgard’s clash would finally come. Seteth was also somewhere out there, planning his revenge, and Hubert had a chill when he imagined him attacking the Monastery, right now. And finally, Rhea, the most powerful being of all, waited for them, to crush their dreams and ideals. Nothing was over yet.

However, their ten years in the making plan was finally giving hopeful results, and this was a delightful feeling. Surely, saving a few rats was a necessary sacrifice. Those lost men, however, he wouldn’t cry over.

They fought without a rush, surrounding beast after beast, truly feeble against the association of not only the Death Knight, and the Ashen Demon. Hubert took care of staying afar, his own fighting style making him unsuited for this kind of closed-range battle. He would just slow them down.

The thought of improving his cavalry skills to become a dark knight had often crossed his mind, but he’d never given it any more attention before. He was meant to stay on the back lines, next to his Lady, and they already had enough mobility, Ferdinand and Bernadetta on the ground, Caspar and Petra in the air. Finally, Byleth was truly an amazing teacher, but they didn’t have enough experience and time for this kind of lessons.

He knew exactly _who_ would’ve been a good teacher, and no, he wouldn’t ask him. Not now.

Finally, the forest turned silent, as night had fallen and the last beast had been subdued. When they returned to their camp, Arundel gave him quite the stink eye for only saving half of his men, and teleported away without anything like gratitude – not that he’d want any of it. Hubert sat down to clean his spear, and Jeritza joined him without a word. 

He’d long since stopped wearing that skull mask of his, though his pale skin and hair gave a striking contrast with his armor, and demeanor on the battlefield. Still, Hubert wasn’t one to judge, wearing a very dark persona himself.

“Thank you for your help today,” he said. That earned him a grunt of acknowledgement, better than nothing. “Where will you be going next?”

“Where blood is, I shall follow its stench.”

“I see,” Hubert answered, trying very hard to not roll his eyes. “Your rest has not come yet.”

“As long as I live, I mustn't rest. This is my burden.”

Jeritza’s love for dramatics was sometimes bordering ridiculous. However, he truly believed in every word he so rarely pronounced. And while Hubert held no feeling of comradeship for that man, he was curious about his way of thinking. “And what will you do, if rest is the only remaining option? Have you never feared for the next?”

Blue eyes crossed his own, and Hubert couldn’t help a shudder, when he was oh so reminded of Mercedes’, her purity and gentleness so far from the ice cold color of her brother’s irises.

“Not a day has passed without me being afraid. Of what’s to come, and what’s been.”

Those words rattled something inside him. His hand clenched unconsciously.

“Really? Isn’t it tiring? Don’t you sometimes wish for safety and peace?”

“I have never lived in any other way.”

Jeritza had lived through traumatic experiences, and this shell he perpetually wore was as much of a protection for him, as it was for others. He didn’t trust himself enough to not hurt loved ones, and he didn’t wish for anyone to get too close, to stab themselves on his spiky heart. And Hubert could relate to the feeling, at least a little bit.

He might not wear an armor, but a mask, it was all the same. His duty had made him who he was, a man who didn’t feel remorse, a tool ready to be used, a shadow with no master.

Of course he’d be terrified, the day one had finally been able to peek behind the mask. Because he’d changed, and had reasoned, for the very first time, that he might not be so opposed to that idea.

This went against all kind of plans. This was a risk, for her Majesty Edelgard. This might even be betrayal to a pledge he’d swore so long ago.

“Be that as it may,” Jeritza said, breaking his line of thoughts. “I do not think of fear as a weakness. Not if it can be turned into strength.”

“How so?”

“Sometimes, I might fear I am not enough. I might fear everything I’ve ever done was for naught. However, I then try to turn it around. I decide I better fear for what shall happen if I dared to lose. I let myself fear of what could’ve been, if not for my actions.”

Jeritza’s words echoed through him for the entire duration of their trip back to the monastery. They didn’t exchange a word when the knight left on his own once again, probably to lurk around one very specific orphanage situated in enemy territory. The words, though, stayed within him.

 _Do not fright fear_.

* * *

A week later, the Brigid delegation came back, and the group composed of Caspar, Petra, Bernadetta and Dorothea quickly brought back some life to the monastery with their antics. The mission had gone smoothly, and the bond between the countries strengthened, but clearly the biggest thing on their mind now that they were home was food.

Petra had finally been able to make them try all the meals she could only describe before, and her friends had been absolutely charmed. So much that they had actually brought quite a lot of samples, seeds, and other pieces of Brigid culinary treasures.

Including alcohol. Brigid seemed to have so much more variety than Adrestia, it truly was a shame, one that Caspar and Dorothea tried to get over as soon as they could.

It was a saturday night, their last rest before a while. Their plans to attack Arianrhod were on their final drafts, it was only a matter of weeks before they’d be ready to leave. They truly wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this one night to get loose, in a smaller and more intimate setting than their last celebratory party.

And it could’ve been fatigue, it could’ve been that he was tired of how little beer could provide; but Hubert accepted to join them on their little gathering. Comfortably hidden in Rhea’s old quarters where no one ever went, him, Dorothea, Caspar, Petra and – obviously – Ferdinand settled around at least ten bottles of varying labels, some bread and cheese; and too many goblets to count.

He might have felt a little bit awkward at first, his second cup of rhum easily relaxed him, enough to just enjoy the company and the great food. He still kept his alcohol consumption to a relatively safe degree, in case of an emergency, but he could feel the _buzz_ , and that was good enough. He even managed to have a conversation with Ferdinand without feeling like horse manure, which was quite the positive development.

Hubert even felt _bold_ , not hiding how much he enjoyed the portrait the paladin painted as he drank from his glass of red wine, his elbow on his raised knee, twirling a lock of red hair around a very enticing finger.

Alright, he might’ve drank a little bit more than he should’ve. Just a little.

At one point of the night, probably when more than half of the bottles had been emptied, Dorothea found herself half sleeping on Petra's lap, the latter completely sober, and very consenting to her friend’s face nuzzling her cleavage. Ferdinand, however, always the knight in shiny armor, had his word to say :

“Dorothea, this is an outrageous attitude! Leave poor Petra alone.”

“Aww, but Ferdie, you don’t understand, this is so soft...” He opened his mouth, but closed it, clearly not sober enough to immediately find a good reply. “I know you’ve got quite the chest yourself, but there’s no need to be jealous, ask someone else~”

She even winked, as Ferdinand turned as red as his wine, and Petra laughed out loud. Hubert snickered, or maybe snorted, he wasn’t sure. Ferdinand still looked at him with a wish of murder, and that was worth it.

Caspar, though, just blushed, as his gaze got lower, and he said :

“Damn, she’s actually pretty right. Can I try?”

“No!” he exclaimed, covering his chest like a blushing maiden. “You, you… you degenerates!”

Dorothea actually fell from Petra’s lap from all the laughing, tears coming to her. She quickly dried her cheeks, and sat straight, not losing the big smile cutting her face in half.

“Goddess, I missed you so much, Ferdie. Truly… I am so happy, right now.”

She probably didn’t wish for it, but their laughs all quickly died, and the air around their group got just a little bit more somber. Caspar took care of not letting silence breaking the mood.

“Me too. Sorry, it’s a little heavy, and you already know, but… we’re all so glad to see you with us once again. We were all so shocked.”

“I know,” Ferdinand whispered, with a small smile, not looking at his friends anymore. “I dare not imagine what you all went through. It breaks my heart.”

“You were probably the most upset of us all, Dorothea,” Caspar continued, like he was lost in his thoughts and merely talking aloud. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to hug you or something, back then,” he then apologized to the young singer. “I was petrified.”

“It’s ok,” she smiled. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like this anyway. This is why I ran away from the war room.”

“Who would’ve thought! I remember the first time you met Ferdie, you were _brutal_.”

“Come on now, why are we talking about that again?” she mumbled, clearly getting more and more embarrassed.

Hubert hadn’t said anything, suddenly feeling like an outsider. He was not usually part of those kind of conversations, he knew all about rumors, and secrets, but not of that kind. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to start sharing _gossips_ , as much as he enjoyed their company.

And the awkwardness was shared, though probably not for the same reasons. Ferdinand was still quite red, from his forehead to what he could glimpse of his collar. He drank a large gulp of wine, sneaking a little glance to Dorothea, bashful.

It suddenly made sense. Oh. Of course.

The idea of an infatuated Ferdinand was pleasing, but seeing it was a whole new story. He didn’t dislike Dorothea, far from it, she was probably the loveliest lady he knew, possessing quite the talents too, from her delightful singing to her mastery of magic, as well as her silver tongue, truly masterful in getting what she wanted. What wasn’t to love? He could’ve swore her and Petra had a very special relationship, but how could he know, maybe Ferdinand had his chances. Her goal of getting married to a powerful man was not dead, and she probably wouldn’t find better. They would make quite a pair.

And he still hated the idea, wretched man that he was. Despicable little Hubert von Vestra, jealous of what surely was a pair made in Heaven.

Dorothea, however, kept pouting. She chugged what was left of her own drink, and raised a finger.

“I’ll have to object, though. I was in a terrible state, I’ll admit it. But I wasn’t the worst.”

Caspar’s eyes widened with surprise, and he asked :

“Woah, really? Who?”

And Petra, sweet Petra, was still struggling with some obscure aspects of the language. And one of those was innuendos. 

“Oh, yes, now that you say it, Hubert really took it very badly.”

Silence fell. Caspar, obviously, wasn’t expecting that. Dorothea, dumbstruck, was clearly fearing for her life, suddenly. Petra had no idea what was wrong. Ferdinand was silent, and he didn’t want to know what his reaction was.

And Hubert? He was dead cold, not breathing anymore, his arm stuck in place as he’d been about to lift his goblet to his lips.

What was he supposed to do, in this situation? Dorothea was probably right, but he didn’t want to talk about it, not with Ferdinand, and even less in front of other people. He couldn’t lie either, not about this subject, not when it would really ruin any fragile friendship he’d built with the paladin.

However, there was one big problem. Agreeing with her was pretty much a confession. One he was absolutely _not_ prepared for.

He needed to find a solution, quickly. Before Caspar got to pronounce another word, before Dorothea could apologize, or Petra would ask what was wrong. Before Ferdinand reacted, looked at him in the eyes, and saw behind the mask, once more.

He drank more. Way more than he should’ve. Swiftly put his cup back in front of him. And, the epitome of coolness, answered.

“I never had to announce the death of a friend before.”

There it was. He wasn’t saying anything too revealing. He wasn’t disagreeing either. He even said the truth. That one battle had been won, though the cold sweat in his back was really uncomfortable.

The air went breathable again. Dorothea heaved a sigh of relief, and quickly commented about their old relationship, how far they’d gotten, the both of them. Caspar was probably too drunk to realize he’d just evaded a bombshell explosion. Petra didn’t say anything, sneaking a surprised glance to Hubert as his shoulders fell after having been so stiff, but nothing else.

And Ferdinand didn’t comment either. When Hubert finally worked enough courage to look over him, he only saw a soft smile, and red cheeks. He was still embarrassed and quite confused, but now there was a sense of contentment emanating from him. Something he’d not seen when he’d caught him looking at Dorothea.

This interlude proved itself a good enough conclusion for their little gathering. They were all quite drunk and tired, and it was time for them to part for the night. Caspar actually left first, ready to go hunt down Linhardt who was probably either hard at work or fast asleep, buried in books. Then it was the two women’s turn, Dorothea stumbling as an excuse to hold her friend closer, the gesture clearly accepted. A heavy silence fell unto the last two men, who cleared their throat and took a look at the mess left behind. Hubert proposed to take care of it on the next day, and that made Ferdinand dare to look at him once more. He nodded.

They both quietly walked through the gardens, in the direction of the dorms. The night had gotten hotter, or was it the alcohol that gave him this impression? Hubert found himself looking at the sky and admiring the multitude of lights when a hand came to wrap around his arm, keeping him from walking further.

“Hubert, ah…” Ferdinand stammered. “Please pardon me, I guess you’re quite tired, but… I thought we could just sit here, for a minute.”

“Are you feeling sick?” he immediately conjured. “Please, rest, I’ll go back up to the infirmary–”

“No, I am fine! I,” A sigh. “I merely wanted to stay with you, just a little bit longer, if I may.”

Hubert blinked, but agreed anyway. The grass didn’t feel that stable, and he was starting to get too hot under his leather jacket, but he couldn’t refuse. Not when pretty maroon eyes begged him in such a way.

They sat on the garden chairs, at least two meters separating them, and neither of them said a word for the first two minutes. Hubert, clearly under the influence of alcohol, didn’t resist the pull and just gazed at the other man, admiring the slope of his nose, the color of his hair in the moonlight, the way his throat moved with every swallow.

Ferdinand however, was looking away, twirling his hair – he always did that when they were talking, and he wanted to know why. He opened his lips, clearly working himself to say something, and finally, the words escaped him.

“I… simply wanted to thank you, first and foremost. Thank you, Hubert.”

He blinked, and bluntly answered :

“About?”

Ferdinand bit his lip, and his insides went mushy at the sight.

“You are not the most talkative man, I know that. But I still admire your way with words, you always know how to chose them, and you’re so different from me, always babbling. This is quite inspiring, actually.”

He smiled, probably because he was, indeed, already running his mouth.

“You do not say things for the sake of it. This is why I treasure every conversation I have with you, you say a lot, with so little words. And ever since I’ve been back, I couldn’t help but notice that… you keep telling me about very sensitive matters. You never go into details, and I respect that. But I feel terribly lucky, and dare I say happy, when I hear such words coming from you.”

“I do not enjoy lying, even for the sake of it.”

“Yes, I am quite aware,” he chuckled. “This is exactly why I feel so lucky, because I can hear all of those beautiful words and be certain that those are not lies. This is why I am thanking you. For being truthful to me, though it pains you so much.”

Hubert lowered his gaze, staring at the table, such a large space between them.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered. “I do not deserve any gratitude.”

His hand clenched, and the words just kept coming out of him.

“I ran away from you, to keep myself from saying those things. I never wanted to share them. I am and always will be a coward, you should know that. I live and yearn for the shadows, I just can’t help it.”

“I am still grateful. Without your – indeed brutal – honesty, I have no idea in what state I would be right now.”

Finally, their eyes crossed again, and the distance seemed to shorten drastically. His heartbeat became so loud, he was afraid it would rattle the chair.

“I was so lost, when I came back here. Before that, I was so convinced that no one really cared. Let's be honest, who would’ve cried for me back then? I still managed to change this, I found a place into your life, and I am very thankful for that. I never wish to lose anyone like you did. Especially you, Hubert.”

Ferdinand was alive and well, he finally realized. This might’ve been the first time this thought brought him relief, instead of dread. Dread of more pain to come, in the case the scenario repeated itself. Dread of losing a link, one he held so dearly to his heart, the day he'd be rejected. 

But there was nothing to fear. Ferdinand was alive, he was a fighter. He didn’t wish for death, he was stronger than any of them, and even if he faltered, Hubert could be there to support him. This was how it was supposed to be, war or not.

It was terrifying, the prospect of losing him again. But not as much as the idea of losing him _because_ he’d failed to be there. The Empire was and would always be his priority, but Ferdinand could also be one. He could make sure he’d never have to grieve for a dear friend. He could be a mess of a human being, and manage to protect what was dear to him.

He got up from his seat, mumbling about his need to leave soon. Ferdinand expressed a little bit of disappointment, but Hubert was right, it was late, and they both needed rest. Still, the idea of walking back to his room with Ferdinand crushed him with longing, a very dangerous perspective. He made up an excuse, clearly nothing credible, for them to part ways right here.

Except he could see it as well, the paladin an open book, clearly expressing desire – for what, though, he couldn’t begin to guess.

It had to be the alcohol making him so brave. But he didn’t hesitate, as soon as he made up his mind, and stepped right in front of his friend. Ferdinand watched him with wide eyes, face once again reddening, and then the hand Hubert had extended, asking for permission. He slowly gave it to him.

Ferdinand had beautiful hands. Well manicured, the same golden shade as the rest of him. They were strong, powerful, calloused from years of practicing the lance. So different from his own, shamefully hidden behind their gloves.

A breath, and Hubert lowered his lips, until they finally kissed skin. He closed his eyes, basking in the moment, the warm, pulsating softness of the hand against his mouth, one stolen kiss, during a never-ending night.

He exhaled, and opened his eyelids to be sure that Ferdinand would look at him right in the eyes when he said, lips brushing skin with every word :

“Have a lovely night, Ferdinand. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then it was over. He dropped the hand, turned on his wheels, and walked fast in the direction of the dining halls, though he absolutely hadn’t said he needed to go this way. He clenched his hands behind his back, his heart about to fly off his chest, and already berating himself for his ridiculous behavior.

However, he couldn’t help stopping in his tracks, as soon as he was hidden, just to peek at his friend. Fear turned in his stomach, as Ferdinand just stayed there, motionless.

He finally raised his head in the direction Hubert had left, catching his gaze. He wasn’t scared. He seemed confused, embarrassed, as he should be. But Hubert couldn’t see any rejection.

He repressed a satisfied smile as he finally took his leave.

**To be continued...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, no, I didn’t do a Gintama “Hijikata disappeared at the end of the Mayonnaise Line” way of explaining why Jeritza wasn’t in the first chapter, what are you saying.
> 
> Anywho, thank you for reading chapter 2!! Yeah it’s still not the end… I just can’t write short things, sorry. Also, I know I promised a lot of comfort, and it’s probably half/half between hurt and comfort… I’m as surprised as you are.
> 
> A few things I wanted to talk about :
> 
> \- I hope you could handle the sheer depravity that was Hubert and Ferdinand almost holding hands.
> 
> \- ...And the buttplug joke. Sorry, I wasn’t planning for it when I wrote about that box in chapter one, but the idea made me laugh so much, I needed to include it.
> 
> \- Jeritza is so emo, this is hilarious to write.
> 
> \- When Linhardt says "Yeah sure, tell that again when you won’t fail to remember who I am", it is because when he asked Ferdinand if he could tell who he was, that boy only reply was "Hubert...".
> 
> \- When Linhardt (still him yea) says “Just take care of him yourself, won’t you? It will save all of us a lot of time, I bet.”, it does mean that they are overworked; but also "save us some time and kiss that man will you". Hence the annoyance when Hubert bailed later lol
> 
> Now, let’s get back on track, and I’ll see you for chapter 3, which should be the final one! I’ll do my best to release it on Ferdie’s birthday, so hopefully I’ll see y’all on april 30th!! Thank you so much for your support, especially for my first release in english. As always, don’t hesitate to tell me if you find any weird sentences, it will help a lot.
> 
> Btw, I listened a lot to _No more what ifs_ from the Persona 5 Royal soundtrack while writing this chapter and I strongly recommend it, it’s a wonderful track. It has this nice painful pining vibe to it... god I wanna write ShuAke too, help.


	3. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a million to my wonderful beta [@GaikotsuRamen](https://twitter.com/GaikotsuRamen) on twitter (and [Ramen (BlushingTeddybear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingTeddybear/pseuds/Ramen) on Ao3) who spent 4 hours slaving herself on this chapter yesterday night <3<3<3 It's really thanks to her that this mess (haha) is readable. Give her love too.
> 
> Happy birthday Ferdinand!!!

Hubert’s cup fell and shattered on the ground.

He was drinking his morning coffee in the mess, while going over some paperwork – his routine. It was also Sunday. He should’ve been free, but there was no such thing as free time in his life and no one to berate him for going against the principles of _resting_. So he worked.

Two soldiers were having breakfast at a table not so far away from his own, chatting quietly over pastries. At one point, the woman, a knight, left for training while her companion, a mage, stayed behind. They exchanged a few words at the entrance door, not too far away from Hubert.

The mage kissed his lover’s hand and went on his way.

And then – _crash_. It suddenly came back.

The warm skin beneath his lips. The rush of heat in his chest. Feelings clenching his heart and stomach as shiny eyes met his own, delightfully painted by moonlight.

_Oh Goddess, no._

Hubert left in a rush, embarrassed to leave his mess behind, but absolutely incapable of facing anyone let alone showing his face. He flew towards the safest place he knew – his office. It used to be Seteth’s, but Hubert had needed a place to work alone, to meet with his own staff, away from the commotion of the training grounds and the halls. It was rare for him to be bothered when he was in there, except in the case of an emergency. And of course, today of all days, Bernadetta had chosen to spend her morning on his sofa.

She squeaked when she saw him violently open his door, then turn around, sigh, and lean his forehead on the wood. He clenched his fists, trying to stay calm, because the archer’s reactions were unpredictable, and he really didn’t want her to go around telling other people about what she’d just saw.

“Good morning Bernadetta.”

“Huh, yes, h-hello!”

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

He heard her shuffle on the cushions, probably bringing her usual drawing notebook closer to her chest, a protection of sorts.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t think you would mind, but I can go–!”

“You’re quite fine. I’ll just leave.”

“But this is your office?!” she objected, jumping on her feet.

“Do not bother. I’ll be back soon. You can stay.”

He went right back outside, and then buried his head in his hands.

Everything was fine, he tried to convince himself. Hubert could spend a quiet morning with Bernadetta, just like he could still spend time with Ferdinand. They’d been quite drunk, the day before, his gesture might’ve been already forgotten. Or discarded as nothing much but a weird occurrence. It would be fine.

He breathed deeply, and finally went back inside his office. Bernadetta was white as a sheet, anxiety making her all stiff. He simply gave her a nod, and went to sit at his desk.

They did not exchange any more words, and as the air got a little bit more breathable for his friend, he slowly began to relax as well. The simple sound of the pencil on paper, her softly singing under her breath. It was pleasant, and it helped him move his focus away from the elephant in the room – the room being his head.

When they went down to eat lunch, he finally crossed paths with the paladin. As if struck by lightning, they both stopped in their tracks, looking at each other with wide eyes, and the conviction that the other man _absolutely remembered_ . Hubert turned around and went back to Bernadetta’s side before the other man could catch sight of his cheeks, covered in an ashamed pink. It was _fine_ , he repeated to himself. Just a little awkward. He could deal with it. They would both forget it in less than a week.

However, he couldn’t run forever.

They had a meeting the next day – a major one. They were on the last adjustments before their march to Arianrhod, well decided to bring the Silver Maiden to the ground once and for all. Cornelia was a big threat, but their first worry lied in the Fradalrius House being the fortress’ gatekeeper. Felix had always been the most skilled swordsman of their promotion, he had proven to be a beast on the battlefield on many occasions. It wouldn’t be the same as fighting the Alliance’s Army, who had actually saved Ferdinand and agreed to peace. This war couldn’t end without the heads of old comrades rolling.

They all knew what the main topic of the day would be, and it weighed on everyone's mind. Tension would not go down in the next days either, especially if they agreed to leave for Arianrhod at the end of the week like they had planned to. This was why Hubert kept his head low and remarkably avoided meeting Ferdinand’s gaze for the entire duration of the meeting. Luckily for him, his friend stayed mostly silent, and helped him stay concentrated on the very important discussion they were having. It truly wasn’t the time for frivolities such as kissing hands. It was war.

It was also war that made him accept when Ferdinand came to him afterwards, and pretty much begged him to help organize the mess that was his battalion in terms of furnitures, schedule, and everything that had followed him becoming a dead man. He hadn’t had the time to take care of it, and he couldn’t push that task away much further, not with such a big battle incoming. And that’s how Hubert fit into the picture : no one knew more about troop management than him. He wrote and asked for reports to be incessantly prepared for this kind of scenario, he made sure to remember every leader’s schedule to be able to contact anyone in the fastest manner. He was the neuralgic brain of their web of commandment and the highest commander out of the battlefield, excluding her Majesty Edelgard. He couldn’t decline a General’s plead for help.

And if he had to be honest with himself, he didn’t really want to either.

It felt good to see Ferdinand sitting on his armchair once again. They could work in silence, and the paladin was observant enough to only inquire for Hubert’s opinion when he was finished working a page. He didn’t try to force breaks on him either, at least not too often. It felt quite nice, to go back to old times.

It might’ve been what spurred Ferdinand to ask him for a tea & coffee date. For old time’s sake, he’d said. The temptation was too great, thus he accepted, and felt his heart hammering in his chest when his friend smiled at him. How lower could Hubert von Vestra fall if he reacted like a schoolboy.

He realized how defenseless he was as soon as their favorite beverages were served and fuming in their hands. They were still in his office, there shouldn’t have been any pretense. Them having their meeting in private usually led to personal subjects, all which Hubert was not so into discussing right now. He wanted to build back their blooming friendship, he wanted that easy banter which always naturally arose between them.

He didn’t wish for change, that was the main problem. Change was still far too scary a thought. For now, routine was good. It was best.

If only he could forget about the feeling of a hand right in his own, though. Hubert felt like a fool, daydreaming about the curve of his friend’s fingers around the handle of a teacup. This brought back other memories, of a time when he’d been chased by shallow dreams, however terrifying they ended up being.

He simply wanted these feelings kept under control. This wasn’t the right time, if one ever came, to have them.

So he smiled at Ferdinand’s jokes, he lifted a brow at a stingy comment, and tried his best to answer as he would’ve before. Keeping the mask intact was vital.

But the worst part was that something _had_ changed. Ferdinand did.

His smile, his voice, and cheery personality were all the same. He was overly passionate, optimistic, always committed to correct Hubert as well as sharing his opinion on any matter. It was him, actually, who finally brought the idea of the mage starting to work on his cavalry skills again, offering his knowledge. He had provided him with one of the mares he was personally training, admitting he’d been thinking about this for a while already.

And yet. There was more. He had this glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. As the years had passed by, and their morale had reached terrible lows, Ferdinand had felt uncertain. Wondering if all of this was worth it, if he should’ve turned his back to his father, if he was strong enough. He had shared those doubts with him, about six months earlier, but Hubert had known for a long time. This was the kind of man Ferdinand was : a pacifistic at heart, believing in the best of everything and everyone, at all time. Wasn’t that exactly how he and Hubert had become friends?

However, the paladin didn’t doubt himself or the future anymore. He had found true hope. Of what exactly, Hubert still couldn’t tell, but the change felt crystal clear to him.

This was a strange sentiment. Hubert would never pretend he knew everything about everyone, but he’d always prided himself in his capacity to read Ferdinand. However, this particular case was a mystery to him. What did he see, what had changed his perspective? It was truly odd, and not helping him in his quest to relax in his friend’s presence.

A few days later, as their Force Strike was gathered to fine-tune their plan of attack before departure, Hubert was once again rendered speechless. Him and Linhardt were looking over the inventory, checking values when someone shuffled behind his back. Then, a hand was laid on his lower back, almost making him start and sputter in indignation. He was expecting Dorothea being her usual grabby self, but he froze in place when the hand shifted to the middle of his shoulder blades, far more appropriate, and it turned out to be Ferdinand’s.

“Hubert! My apologies for bothering you, but I’m about to go down to the kitchens and brew all of us some tea. Would you prefer some coffee instead?”

He stared at the other man, his eyes so wide they almost hurt, and didn’t feel capable of doing anything but shaking his head to hide himself and muttering a little _‘whatever’_. Ferdinand didn’t seem to care and went on his way, the hot trail of his hand still burning through Hubert's clothes. Linhardt sighed, and Hubert almost wanted to do the same.

It didn’t end there. After the meeting was truly over, Ferdinand came to his side once more – at least frontally this time – and called his name with a radiant smile. Then he put his left hand on his shoulder, following him as they all walked away from the war room. He wondered if his friend had always been so tactile. Could Hubert have never noticed, when he was still so blind?

“Ah, my friend! I hope I do not catch you at a bad time. I won’t be long, I– just wanted to tell you before forgetting : if you wish to take Faeria as your mount to Arianrhod, you should–”

The rest was completely lost to him. No word could reach him, when Ferdinand kept his hand on his shoulder like it was stuck to it, and spoke so close to his ear. Something akin to nervousness started rattling Hubert when he realized they had ended up in an empty part of the monastery. He shook the hand off him, so that his head could work properly, and didn’t try to disguise the annoyance in his voice as he answered :

“I know all of that, Ferdinand, I am no stranger to cavalry. I have been raised as a noble just like you did, I had lessons.”

“Well,” he laughed. “You can’t make me believe we followed the _exact_ _same_ curriculum.”

“Indeed we didn’t. I still know enough for a mare to survive under my supervision.”

“It is not _a_ mare, it is _my_ mare! And a von Aegir mare requires a very specific kind of care.”

Slowly getting back to his usual self now that some distance had been established between them, Hubert crossed his arms and raised his chin.

“So? Are you gonna ask me to brush her mane every two hours? Chant her some poetry before sleeping? Or maybe to kiss her muzzle when she’s being obedient?”

Ferdinand glared back at him, hand on his waist. He probably didn’t think his joke to be very funny. A tiny cruel smile then tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t. I guess you only know how to kiss after a few drinks.”

Hubert recoiled in shock, eyebrows shooting up – he even took a step back.

And Ferdinand’s smile froze too, like he’d just realized what he’d said. He had stepped over the line, and now they were both standing awkwardly since the conversation had nothing to do with horse care anymore.

He couldn’t do that right now. They were leaving in less than a day. If Ferdinand wanted that conversation he would give him, _after_. What did he want from him exactly anyway, he wondered, a silent fury building under his skin. It hadn’t been meant as a jab, he knew it, but it still stung. Hubert felt a lot of shame for his action, but he’d done it sincerely. He didn’t need to be made a fool out of it.

Hubert turned on his heels, needing to get as far away from the paladin as possible, and very quickly. However, a hand caught his forearm before he’d even taken a step, and Ferdinand sputtered :

“I, I am sorry, Hubert, I shouldn’t have said that, it was very childish of me. Please forgive me.”

His hands clenched, and he snarled :

“I will take care of your horse, Ferdinand. Now let me go.”

“I know you will, I was just rambling before,” he finally admitted, his voice lower. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Well I _can’t wait_ to hear it.”

He stubbornly refused to look at him, and they must have looked ridiculous, one of them talking to a wall, the other one to a backside. Ferdinand, however, didn’t waver. He spoke, as if he was looking at him right in the eyes, while his grasp on his arm softened.

“I want to have tea with you, when we’ll get back from Arianrhod. Things will only get busier as time goes on, and who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to ask.”

Ferdinand spoke as if they couldn’t possibly die in the very close future. Like there was no way anything terrible could happen and prevent him from his treasured tea time. Hubert truly didn’t get it. “...Why?” he ended up asking.

“Because I wish to stay close to you, whatever happens. I care a lot about you, Hubert.”

He knew that. It still didn’t make any sense. What was Ferdinand looking for – his attention? His affection? Hubert had already given him both, wholly. What else could he want?

Did he know? About the traitorous feelings haunting Hubert’s mind, and the wave of heat that caressed his skin when they came too close to each other? What interest would Ferdinand hold in any of it? It was infuriating, how powerless he felt with someone whose company he’d come to see as a breather.

However, he didn’t have enough time to think about it. He’d had enough of indulging Ferdinand’s antics, time was still running.

“If we come out of this alive,” he grunted, freeing himself from his friend’s hold. “I’ll come to every damn tea party you want.”

This time, Ferdinand let him flee. But was it because he’d gotten what he wanted? Because he’d given up? Hell if Hubert knew.

He wanted to stay alive, and would come out of their battle in Arianrhod victorious. But he wasn’t going to eagerly wait for that future tea party of theirs, that was for sure.

* * *

Calling the Arianrhod operation a delusion was maybe too weak of a word. Karmic retribution might’ve been more appropriate. A tragedy’s third act, too.

The Adrestian Empire had taken over the fortress. They had fought against terrifying machinery, hidden traps, and old friends. Even Petra’s hand had shaken, when she’d heard Ingrid’s last words. Felix had gone for retreat against Rodrigue’s orders, but had been caught before he could leave on his horse. He’d been docile enough to be kept as a war prisoner, and when Hubert had asked him why he wasn’t struggling, he’d only answered :

“I can’t die here. Not right now.”

And then the pillars of light fell on the fortress.

The Silver Maiden became dust and blood, just like that. In the blink of an eye, a jewel of architecture and military strength was reduced to naught. Like it had never existed.

A lot of their own troops perished in the attack as well. Felix, who’d been jailed inside of the castle, died under the rubble. Fortunately, none of the Black Eagle Strike Force had been injured, neither was their Emperor. But this sight was as terrifying as death.

Those Who Slither In The Dark were behind it, Hubert was absolutely certain of it. And it made him furious.

How dare they turn their back on them this way. Hadn’t they gained their trust? Did they really need to turn to such savagery to make themselves feel more powerful? If they were hoping to crush any hope of future victory by demonstrating such devastating power, they actually did the complete opposite. Never had Hubert been more determined.

As soon as the shock started fading out, he threw himself right back into his work. The Emperor couldn’t lose time over the Snakes, she needed to continue her march, right into the heart of the Kingdom’s lands, and finally subjugate Dimitri and Rhea. He would personally take care of her quest for revenge, as he’d been raised to do. Her Majesty Edelgard was to be the one who shone light over all Fodlan. Hubert was to stay in her shadow. That had been his pledge, many moons ago.

He started spending less and less time inside of his office, though no one really knew about that. Countless nights, he was having secret meetings in bars, exchanging information with shady but unharmful information dealers. He killed a lot of people too, pursuers way too cheeky to think they could actually follow him and gut him in the dark, true assassins too, going after the reward that had been placated on his head for years.

Obviously, Ferdinand wasn’t happy about that. He suspected what was going on, but with no true proof he was powerless, not that anyone could have stopped Hubert anyway. Still, the sorrow that shone in maroon eyes every time he rejected his offer for tea hurt terribly. Hubert had promised, and he wasn’t usually a man to go back on his promises, so he just kept postponing. It didn’t make his friend smile at him once more, though.

And he would have to get used to it. Ferdinand’s war was almost over; but not his. Hubert was barely beginning, still testing the waters, looking for more informations, secret weaknesses in his enemy. Dorothea liked to joke about his job as an assassin, but this was what was waiting for him after Fhirdiad. This was the war he would probably die in, if it could make his Lady never have a nightmare again.

He never got scared of losing his life. He knew it couldn’t stop right there. He wouldn’t end like Felix did, full of regrets.

That is something Edelgard and him discussed one night. It was getting late, and they shared a moment together to let her keep track of his work (at least what he accepted sharing) and decide on their next move. The details of their invasion of Faerghus would be debated with everyone else, but they were discussing of a farther future. One coming after they had defeated the enemies hiding under the soil, a very loose soil they couldn’t wait to rummage into.

But then, it ultimately came. Edelgard asked him :

“Do you have any regrets?”

His answer first came out as a simple scoff.

“After everything we’ve done, you still feel the need to ask this question? My Lady, surely you know me better than that.”

“I do not mean it in those terms – though you could absolutely express remorse, years after the fact.” She lightly shook her head, her untied hair flowing around her. “I just can’t help but wonder sometimes. What will happen when everything is over. Will I still be able to find happiness in this future I oh so fought for. Could I have lost something on the way, missed an opportunity that I could never get back – those types of thoughts.”

He took a few minutes to think about it. His own answer was obvious, but he actually started debating whether or not he could share it. Edelgard was and would still be the most important person of his life. She guided him in the dark, and had an unwavering faith in him – the same he had in her.

But it was all so naive, so childish. Should he truly bother her with this type of conversation? Would she laugh at him? He didn’t know how or why this suddenly came over him. Hubert decided to do the easiest thing : tell her the truth.

“If I had to pick, I guess there is one thing I might hope for. However, this is something I shall act on, or not, when our war is over. And I do not think I would regret dying without ever sharing those feelings.”

It caught Edelgard’s attention. She slowly blinked, like she was waiting for some follow up, but when there were none, she asked, seeming unsure :

“Did you say feelings?”

He almost scoffed, because her surprised tone was quite endearing.

“I did. I should reassure you : the rumors are very wrong, and my feelings are absolutely not directed towards Your Majesty.”

“Are you… in love with someone?”

The word made him shiver pleasantly, a true curse. He dared not raise his head and face his Lady however.

“This is amusing. You are the most powerful woman in all Fodlan, yet you can’t see the obvious. I quite like that innocence, you didn’t lose it all yet.”

“I am sorry, Hubert, I truly didn’t know. I mean… I would’ve never guessed.” Edelgard seemed very invested in that subject, and it didn’t come as a surprise when she asked : “Who is it?”

Hubert finally looked at her, to find her lost in her thoughts. He chuckled when she ended up scanning his eyes and face, like the answer would show up written on there.

“Are you going to make me spell it out? You can be so cruel, my Lady,” he said with no bad feeling, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I confess that I cannot imagine you with a woman, Hubert.”

“Well... you shouldn’t.”

She furrowed her brows for a second, and suddenly, there it was : the light of realization in her lavender eyes. Her mouth turned into a small circle and she whispered :

“Oh… I… I could have guessed that, actually.”

Hubert deeply sighed, trying to digest the fact that as soon as Edelgard had tried thinking about a male partner for him, she’d instantly guessed right.

“Linhardt certainly wishes he didn’t.”

“This is… quite the tragic tale, actually.” He lifted an eyebrow and she explained herself : “I’m talking about his imprisonment. You were devastated, as we all were, but… now I can see how hard it must have been on you personally.”

“In my honest opinion, me having feelings is already a tragedy on its own, but I thank you for that thought.”

His friend crossed her legs, looking over him with affection, and slowly lifted her hand to move away his fringe and reveal the eye he liked to hide so much. It was the first layer of his so well crafted mask, nonetheless so thin and nimble in his Lady’s hands.

“You do not believe it could ever be mutual, do you?”

“... Yes, I do not.”

At that, she shook her head, but didn’t say more. Edelgard knew him better than anyone, and even she couldn’t make him change his mind when it came to this type of discussion.

“Still, you’ve thought about telling him.”

“I dislike lying to him, that is all.”

“I understand. Though my feeling about it is less about him deserving to know, and more about _you_ deserving an answer.”

He smiled and almost laughed at that. She truly was too kind.

“Also,” she added, her smile turning somewhat playful. “I do think you have a chance.”

He shook his head, joining her laughter, though his own was bordering on a snort, and he started feeling a little hot under the collar.

“Really? How so?”

Edelgard got up from the sofa, and used her finger to lift his chin, now unquestionably smirking.

“He always had a soft spot for you. And I might have analyzed it the wrong way, but I do know I’m not wrong. That man could die for you.”

“I would rather he didn’t,” he ended up replying, running away from a discussion that would reveal too much.

“Goddess, me too. I need my Prime Minister healthy. And I guess him being in cahoots with the Minister of the Imperial Household will save us from the political drama of finding them decent spouses.”

Hubert recoiled and quickly got up, to open his door for her, and definitely not to hide the blush creeping past his ears. Edelgard joyfully laughed and stopped teasing him, taking her candle and walking outside of his office. She turned before leaving, and finally told him :

“Never forget, Hubert. You do not have to bear all the weight of the world on your shoulders. We shall share it between the two of us.”

“I know, Your Majesty,” he answered, tentatively looking her way again.

“And you deserve to be happy. The world won’t crumble away if you take a break for a day. Please take care of yourself, my friend.”

He nodded, and she finally left, satisfied. His own face felt oversensitive, for how much he’d blushed during this conversation. The best way he found to get rid of the feeling was to throw himself right back into work.

And no matter how much he wished for the contrary, her words stayed on his mind. The end of the war was near, not his own, but his friend’s definitely was. They would soon be able to go back home, to their own life, while Hubert would go underground.

He needed to cherish those last moments.

* * *

The words kept haunting him. That, and the memory of disappointed, pleading puppy eyes. Hubert didn’t even try to resist : it took him less than twenty-four hours to finally make amends and ask Ferdinand for tea, by himself.

And the man dared telling him _‘no’_ , just to spite him. Hubert was but a weak man. He loved it.

It took a few more tries and very pricey tea leaves until a very smug Ferdinand finally came to sit down at the opposite end of their usual table. Hubert got very tempted to make it about his friend being the childish one, but he didn’t push his luck. He didn’t want any argument with Ferdinand, but actually to spend some time with him and relax.

After a few jabs, the paladin seemed satisfied and absolutely enchanted with his tea, so he knew he’d been forgiven. They started talking like always, though it was heavily leaning on friendliness and overflowing affection, with less sarcasm than usual. It seemed he couldn’t help himself, especially when compliments made Ferdinand so pink in the cheeks.

And it might have been guts, or him deciding to just stop thinking altogether, but he asked :

“Do you have plans, for when you won’t have to fight anymore?” Surprise shone on Ferdinand’s face, who answered vaguely about some idealistic dreams of his, of his policy as a Prime Minister. That gave a wry smile to Hubert, who tried again : “This is just like you. However, this wasn’t the kind of plans I was thinking of.”

The paladin laughed, and took a second to sip on his tea. He then lifted a hand to idly play with a lock of hair.

“Well then Hubert, I certainly wasn't expecting that coming from you! May I be privy as to why you have such an interest in my love life?”

If Hubert was optimistic, he would’ve sworn there was a tint of hope in his friend’s eyes. A very faint, but perceptible tremble in his voice. However, optimistic he was not – he was and would remain a coward, who acted as if he couldn’t pick up on it.

“I expect a man like you to already have a few lovely ladies in mind, that is all. And the sooner I can start investigating on your future beloved, the better.”

“Oh? And do you have some examples of _lovely ladies_ that might interest me?”

“Well, there is Miss Arnault.”

Any smug comment Ferdinand was ready to send back was drowned as he choked on his drink. He looked at him owlishly, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Really? Dorothea?” He shook his head, absolutely flabbergasted. “First of all, my relationship with her is strictly platonic, and secondly, stop making fun of me this way, I’m begging you.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Ferdinand blinked, and put his cup back on its saucer. He looked at the table between them for an instant, until the words finally came out :

“Hubert. You… You found my _box_ .” His eyes shot right up, to bear into his own. “You can’t possibly think that I am looking for a _wife_ , do you?”

“Well…” he started, though he found the words suddenly escaping him. He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“You should.”

“That doesn’t really change anything, does it? You’re evading the question.”

“Hubert! Stop bothering me so!” he started pouting.

“But it’s so easy.”

Ferdinand narrowed his eyelids at him, picking up a scone from the tray between them.

“Well, you’re a spy, aren’t you? Why don’t you find out?”

Hubert’s heart, already beating way too fast, started hurting when it suddenly began to feel like it was actually hammering his chest and trying to get out.

“I am a busy man.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to find out after the war is over,” he muttered, and the subject came to an end.

Ferdinand tried to send the question back to him a few minutes later, with no success. Whether or not he seemed almost disappointed when Hubert didn’t even throw him a bone, he tried not to think about it.

When the war was over, everything would be fine once again. Ferdinand would finally tell him about his secret love, Hubert would probably end up confessing. Ferdinand would be surprised, but he wouldn’t make fun of him and that was quite enough for the mage. He would be kind, supportive, and finally get married, while Hubert left for his own war, the one he probably wouldn’t come back from.

That was fine. That was enough.

For now, he was happy meeting with all those people he had the chance of calling friends. He wouldn’t have bet on it when they had met, with him acting as a vampirish bodyguard, always watching them from the shadows to keep them away from his liege.

Now, he could have lunch with Petra and Caspar, and even if he was barely contributing to the conversation, they didn’t seem to mind. He could help Dorothea on some research in the library, while barely escaping her incessant teasing. He could give his honest opinion to Bernadetta about her latest paintings, accompanied by Linhardt’s dry but on-the-point advices.

He decided to ask them the same question he’d asked Ferdinand. He actually wanted to know what they were planning for, after the Church and the Kingdom were defeated. Some would be going home, some actually didn’t know yet, some wouldn’t answer. However, they all had the same conviction. They would win this war, and stay alive for what would come after it. Hubert found that to be enough. He was, after all, exactly the same.

It felt like such a short time before they were finally leaving in the direction of the Tailtean Plains. This was where Dimitri would be waiting for them, and they would face him upfront. There truly was no more strategy. The strongest would win.

Hubert had had good results as a Dark Knight, so he departed with his borrowed mount once again. Faeria was a sweet, obedient mare, not the fastest but she was bright and took initiative in battle when it was needed. She was a very good fit, one he had expected coming from Ferdinand who had a gift with those animals. Working together on his cavalry skills had not been a walk in the park, there was quite a lot Hubert was lacking, but Ferdinand had been a patient teacher. He didn’t feel inadequate on the battlefield, nor did he feel any remorse for his lack of adaptability anymore.

He still found himself caught in a new lesson coming from his far too enthusiastic teacher as they were travelling north. They were riding side by side and Ferdinand was lost in his lecture, blabbering about horseshoes – or not, Hubert hadn’t really been listening. He still felt quite soft, seeing his friend so passionate, and was thrown back to a time when he’d thought he’d lost it.

It came like a wave, the memories of those two long months. He started wondering what he would’ve become had Ferdinand truly been gone. Drinking with Dorothea, smiling genuinely, actually wishing for a longer life; would he have done them?

Hubert didn’t want to die, neither on this battlefield, nor the next one. He didn’t want to lose anyone, especially the man next to him whose speech was slowly coming to a stop, as he understood he wasn’t being listened to. He wanted to tell him about everything. He wanted to share those precious feelings that turned him mad, made him irresponsible yet feel so desperately alive.

Ferdinand turned his head to finally look at him, a reproach about to leave his mouth. But Hubert was quicker this time. He didn’t want any regrets. And while he had many things he wanted to share, one deserved to be said at this exact moment.

“I never told you about those two months.”

Surprise painted the paladin’s face. Hubert had always evaded this subject, uncomfortable and pained just thinking about it. It felt right now, though. And while Ferdinand probably couldn’t begin to guess how it had come to this, he answered earnestly :

“You can tell me anything.”

The sound of the hooves stepping on stone, the murmur of the soldiers marching filled up the silence. They were not in a private setting, but no one would hear them, with how far away from their troops they were, and how even whispers between them felt like there were pronounced right into their ears.

Hubert told him everything. He told him about the shock, the emptiness, the anger. He explained the feeling of numbness, and the sudden rage when he came to face Claude. He mentioned the burning report, and the stolen diaries. The taste of cigarette, and tears almost staining the pages he was slowly reading. He apologized again for that indiscretion of his, and Ferdinand simply shook his head, discreetly trying to dry his own cheeks.

He might have kept on speaking for hours, Hubert honestly didn’t know. Still, everyone finally stopped to camp when he’d barely finished telling his tale, and his mouth was dry after talking for so long without a pause. He took a swing of water from his canteen while Ferdinand slowly dismounted, his back turned to him.

However, the paladin turned towards him and suddenly a hand was on his wrist. Hubert let his gaze fall on the iron gauntlet, clinking as it softly embraced his skin. Then he raised it again, to find shiny red eyes looking at him with something akin to determination. Ferdinand’s cheeks were still dark after crying but he said without fear :

“I won’t die. And I won’t let you die either. This is a vow that I, Ferdinand von Aegir, make to you, my dearest friend.”

Hubert felt tempted to answer that he couldn’t promise anything like that. That he was no goddess, and that one day, death would inevitably come to them.

But he didn’t. He smiled, and indulged himself with some hope, too. He nodded, and didn’t run when Ferdinand let his hand slowly descend along his joint until it could hold his fingertips, turn the back of his hand upwards, and finally drop a kiss on his knuckles.

The pledge had been made. Now, to fight and protect it.

* * *

It felt like a dream – when the battlefield fell silent, when the last battles were raging, and peace was born.

The sky was very cloudy, in different tones of grey, Hubert noticed. It wasn’t what he had expected, when he’d imagined his liege finally subduing their last enemy, and bringing an end to a far too long war. But it felt just fine, either way.

The Immaculate had fallen to the ground with Edelgard brandishing her axe in victory. Hubert was too far, he couldn’t actually see it, but he knew it was how it had happened. Sometimes, fate worked that way, just like she had been the one to finally bring an end to her stepbrother’s wretched life, accepting his ghosts to become her own.

Thinking back, he actually didn’t know what had happened between their fight in Tailtean Plains, and their final confrontation in Fhirdiad. All he remembered were Dedue’s howls, Mercedes’ sad smile, Sylvain’s suspicious absence. No one had been spared. Rhea had left before she could see Dimitri’s head on the ground.

Afterwards, they had continued their march. They couldn’t have stepped back. It had been a now or never kind of gut feeling : if they had waited just a few more days, they probably would’ve lost. They had needed to get to Fhirdiad.

It had been Hubert’s hardest fight, that was for sure. Fatigue had made him well repeated advices slip out his mind, and he had suddenly fallen off his mount, stricken in the back by the lance of a dying Pegasus Rider looking for one last heroic act. He had lost sight of Faeria, and had been condemned to protect the back, removing the armor that was restraining his movements, taking care of remaining forces and never ending reinforcements. For a while, he’d been helped by Bernadetta but she had left him when a new arrival of Wyverns had been sighted in the opposite direction. So he had found himself alone, hiding in the shadows, trapping all the remaining soldiers in various arrays he had traced on the ground and was activating from his hiding spot.

Then, the howls had stopped. The reinforcements had stopped coming. And he had let himself fall on his knees, take a long breath, and watch the sky. Exhausted, but also relieved. He had been right to believe, fifteen years ago.

But the peace of the battlefield was suddenly broken. The commotion was little bit far from him, but not far enough for him to worry about his Lady’s well-being. Hubert started running in the direction of the action. It could’ve been one of their men in a bad posture, and while he was weary, he still had enough strength for one last battle.

It took him a few minutes, and a lot of climbing over corpses, until he finally found what the commotion was. A battle was raging between a knight and a Wyvern Rider. His breath got caught in his throat.

He couldn’t mistake them, their hair color vivid against the color of the sky. Ferdinand was fighting against Seteth.

All of his exhaustion disappeared, and he doubled his cadence. Seteth was fighting for revenge, with no care for himself. Anything could happen. Ferdinand had gotten away quite unharmed the first time, he might not be so lucky the second time.

He saw Seteth’s axe overpowering the paladin’s hold on his own weapon, and everything went dark. He couldn’t let that happen. Not again. He had to distract him. Hubert climbed on a broken stone stairway, and shouted :

“Seteth! I, Flayn’s killer, am standing right here!”

He had gotten close enough that he could finally see their faces when they turned in his direction. Seteth’s eyes were insanely wide when he found the origin of the noise. Ferdinand’s face was so pale he seemed sick, watching Hubert as if he’d seen a ghost.

Seteth was the first to shake himself out of his surprise and took the advantage, pushing the paladin off of him, and off his mount. He didn’t try to finish the job though, as he immediately pulled on his reins and started flying in Hubert’s direction.

The mage was ready however, and easily evaded the frontal attack. He quickly rolled and jumped down the stairs, hiding between blocks of granite where the Wyvern couldn’t get to him. Seteth, mad as he was, wasn’t even trying to catch him by surprise, and kept on yelling after him, to get out and face him, accusing him of being a coward.

But oh, that he already knew.

Finally, his salvation arrived, with the sound of a quick galop. Hubert jumped out of his hide and right onto the saddle of Ferdinand’s mare. It truly was a goddess-blessed thing he’d learnt about the different calls for them and that he remembered the specific clacking of a tongue reserved for this one mare.

He forced the poor animal to her limits, but with the surprise effect and the speed of the mount, Seteth didn’t have enough time to react. Hubert made him freeze and immediately launched a spell. Before he’d even fallen in the blood-stained dirt, Seteth was no more.

Hubert took a few second to breathe, and let the adrenalin pour out of him. He swallowed, heavily panting, and when he was absolutely sure his enemy would never open his eyes again he finally looked around for his friend.

He heard his name being called, and saw Ferdinand limping towards him, his eyes wild with worry. The mare only trotted as they got closer, as exhausted as him, though he only wanted to run and know for certain that his friend was alright. He dismounted and caught Ferdinand before he could fall to his knees, out of breath.

“Are you alright? Are you injured somewhere, do you need a healer?”

However, the man didn’t even answer, still gazing at him with something akin to astonishment, his hands coming to grip his shoulders.

“Hubert… You’re alright…?”

“Well, yes, I am, but–”

With an enormous sigh, the paladin let his head fall on his torso, and his voice caught in his throat.

“Oh, Goddess, what a relief…” He took another trembling breath, that made his arms shake against him. “When I found Faeria alone, as well as your blood-tainted armor, I… I imagined the worst… Then Seteth appeared, he told me he’d taken his revenge, and… I lost it.”

Hubert was left almost speechless. Shivers started raking through his friend’s whole body, and he could only hold his shoulders, totally helpless in this situation. He finally whispered :

“It’s alright. I’m alive, Ferdinand. We won. We’re safe.”

He nodded against his chest, and loudly gulped down his saliva. He then began to relax in his hold, his fingers releasing their grip on the fabric of his top. His arms went soft and stayed in their position against his shoulders, almost hugging him.

Hubert was probably too tired to care. He let his own forearms slide around his friend’s waist, and pressed him against his chest even if his armor was uncomfortable. Ferdinand sighed once again, softer this time, and finally embraced his neck, while his head moved to settle in the dip of Hubert’s shoulder.

They stayed like this for a minute, and Hubert looked at the sky once more. It felt like there was nobody else but them in the world with how silent everything was, and the sky a cocoon, wrapping around them, infinite and empty. He let himself forget about everything but the man in his arms. He closed his eyes as his head came to relax against the one on his shoulder. The scent of sweat, and blood, and masculine musk was overwhelming. The hair against his cheek, infinitely softer than it had been in his dreams. And finally the skin, so warm, of Ferdinand’s temple right under his lips, that he kissed tenderly.

Ferdinand was now breathing normally. He didn’t react to his gesture, not instantly. Before that, the arms around his shoulders tightened, like he was trying to melt into the embrace. A hand, luckily out of its glove, skimmed near the small hair of his nape, until the fingers buried themselves in the short dark locks, maneuvering Hubert’s head so that it was lowered. He let him do as he pleased, enjoying the feeling of his hair being softly pulled on, a growl of pleasure escaping his mouth when he felt burning lips against his forehead.

Ferdinand leaned back, facing him right on. He saw the maroon eyes sparkling, the dark hue of his face, his lips parted, and Hubert frowned as he felt it. Hope, in his own chest. Fear, clutching his stomach. And, mostly, resolution sharpening all of his senses and telling him that there was no more turning back.

His eyes closed themselves when he finally allowed himself to kiss Ferdinand von Aegir. It only lasted one or two seconds, but it felt like a fire exploding right under his skin. Even after the act, his stomach kept on tickling, as he submitted the feeling of soft, supple lips against his own to memory.

He wasn’t given time for more thinking when he became the one being kissed. It lasted so much longer, he truly lost track of time, letting himself to be owned by this ravenous mouth, so much more insistent and without any of his own restraint. Ferdinand kissed him like he would die if he didn’t, passionate and tender, his fingers running through Hubert's hair.

They only separated for a second to breathe before coming back to each other. Hubert abandoned his hold on the man’s waist to simply hold his jaw between his hands. He let his voice escape him, relief shaking his throat, stealing his breath; while Ferdinand whispered his name reverently, like he couldn’t believe it.

It was uncoordinated, barely more than lips moving against each other, sometimes with too much strength. Not that it mattered, as Hubert kept wanting more, teeth catching the lower lip that had always enticed him and the sweet sounds rewarding him. Ferdinand didn’t stop his indecent moaning, lost in a haze that made him almost climb on the other’s lap.

At some point, however, the ringing in Hubert’s ears faded, and he started hearing voices around them, maybe twenty meters away. It was one of the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he detached himself from the red, shiny temptation that was Ferdinand’s mouth, and sighed :

“We need to move. Everyone is probably looking for us.”

The fever still hadn’t completely left the paladin, who licked his lips, shook his head and went right back into the kiss. He really was his own personal merman, calling him away from his duty with his sweetest voice, enticing him with just a look, and grabbing him with the certitude he didn’t wish to be released.

Hopefully, Ferdinand was no mythological creature : he was a man made of flesh and a seemingly never ending air supply, but a human being nonetheless, who finally took a breath, and, after hearing his plea for the second time, nodded. Hubert asked him if he could stand up, which he could, then he pushed his back towards his mare so that they could go back to their base and reunite with everyone.

With the both of them riding an exhausted mount, it took them a while to return. However, they did not fill that time with conversation. It truly was no time for that, as tired as they were. As soon as he sighted Faeria, Hubert went on her back instead, after checking for any injury on her part. She was fine, though a little distraught after having lost her knight, but she was in a good shape.

“I should go in advance, please take your time, I will inform everyone of your well-being.”

“Right. I’ll see you later.”

The sentence was not formulated to be a question, but it felt like one, suddenly weighing between them. Hubert felt his heart clunk against his ribs, catching the paladin’s eyes. He truly was done for.

“You will.”

The relieved smile that stretched Ferdinand’s face was enough. He started trotting away, and didn’t look back. He knew well enough that he would be fine on his own, and there was so much to be done, still. He had to get back to his Lady’s side, so that they could immediately start to occupy the Kingdom’s Capital, send letters to their allies, spread the word of their victory. They had finally won the war, but it was far from being over.

He would take his rest after that. He would take the time to think about what had just happened. Hell, he would have a long, and probably painful discussion with Ferdinand, because while he had no intent of ever letting him go, he now had the duty to share the truth with him, about the next war he would engage in. A war he couldn’t bring him into.

But it would be later.

* * *

And little time did he get. Just enough to regain all of his strength, have a good night’s sleep, until he needed to get back on the field. Though this time, he wasn’t fighting with a tome and a spear, but with very persistent and annoying nobles who suddenly tried to side with the Empire and were very keen on proving their new-found loyalty.

Hubert needed to watch over them, obviously not in person, but he’d never had to spy on so many territories at a time, and the simplest bureaucracy that came with it seemed endless. Meanwhile, he still had more and more night meetings with his secret _secret_ spies, those who were watching every move from the Snakes. They were delighted, and they luckily stayed put, giving him a little breather. He really needed them to stay out of the woods for at least a year, let them think the Empire had settled in its peace, and gut them when they were expecting it the least. It was the best scenario, though it was one where he cruelly lacked rest.

By the time he was finally back to the monastery, most of the troops were gone. He’d stayed way longer than any generals in Fhirdiad, and was really uncomfortable staying that much time away from his Lady. But he knew Byleth could be trusted with her life, and the Emperor really needed to get back to her people in Enbarr, and celebrate the end of the war.

The word had been spread around, and even in the almost empty monastery they had decided to celebrate like the rest of the continent. That’s the kind of scene that welcomed Hubert when he arrived, sore from his journey on horseback. The village at the foot of the old Knight’s Academy was bustling with joy, booze running down throats, and songs sung too loudly for his own taste. He got stopped many times as he was trying to fray his way back to Garreg Mach, some people recognizing him as a General of the army, other drunkards simply wanting a new party companion.

At least he’d finally gotten six full hours of sleep before the ride so that he wouldn’t die in a ditch out of exhaustion, and he took his time bringing the mare back to the stables. His heart clenched, remembering that he actually needed to contact Ferdinand and give her back to him, though he guessed that he owned the horse at this point.

Still, he needed to meet with him.

A stable boy saw him enter the stables and start taking care of his mount, and immediately ran away. He didn’t think much about it, he knew his complexion was not very appealing, and could easily frighten younger ones. But he understood the hidden meaning very soon, when he heard another set of riding boots running on the dry earth, coming in his direction.

The sight of Ferdinand’s glowing cheeks and radiant smile appearing from behind the wall stole his breath. He seemingly hadn’t been celebrating like everyone else, as he was only wearing a white shirt and soft breeches, the kind he wore before bed. He kept on running until only a few meters were separating them.

“Hubert!” he exclaimed, too loudly considering the hour. “You finally came back!”

The joy on his friend’s face was quite the sight, it almost hurt to look at him with how dazzling he looked. Peace had been good to him – the dark circles around his eyes had completely disappeared and a healthy blush covered his freckled face.

“Indeed I am,” he answered, dropping the smooth brush back with the other tools. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I must confess.”

“Bad luck for you,” he chuckled, walking closer to pat Faeria’s neck and discreetly feeding her a treat. “I know everyone is in Enbarr, but I was hoping to meet you here before that.”

The distance between them was a little awkward, if he had to be honest. He had expected it, and fought to keep his arms along his body instead of crossing them, fully aware of his own body language.

“It is everything but bad luck, for me.”

Ferdinand’s lips tightened to refrain a smile, finishing Faeria’s care routine for him, just to evade looking at Hubert.

“That’s very good to hear.”

Hubert then brought back the tools to where they were usually stored, and walked back to the stable, where is friend was finished, and casually murmured nonsense to his mare with a sweet smile.

“You didn’t partake in the celebrations?”

“Hm, it crossed my mind,” he replied all while letting his naked hand brush through Faeria’s mane. He side-glanced him. “Are you planning to join them?”

“Hardly.”

“What a surprise,” he chuckled. Ferdinand had an easy smile on his face, though he wouldn’t look at him, bashful. “I can feel how much she’s come to love you, Hubert. She’s not a difficult one, but as soon as you came back, I felt her heart beating stronger.”

“Oh, really?” he mumbled, not really listening. He was starting to be nervous, thinking about something that would finally break the ice. Luckily for him, Ferdinand took a step back, bit his lower lip, and finally faced him.

“Well, it might have been mine as well.”

Hubert’s hands clenched, and he cleared his throat, fighting to hide his embarrassment. This awkwardness surely went both ways. They were far from trying to run away from each other, but every word and look brought back some kind of sudden shyness, due to feelings they certainly weren’t used to share out loud. Nonetheless, they both clearly wanted to try.

“Would you allow me something?”

The little stutter in Ferdinand’s voice was extremely endearing and he would’ve immediately teased him for it, was he not so hot under the collar himself. Hubert, clearly incapable of anything other than short sentences, replied :

“You can do everything your heart desire with me.”

“Really?” he insisted. “Even hugging you?”

“I said what I said.”

The paladin’s eyebrows shot up high, but a relieved grin lightened up his face, and he stepped closer to him.

“Be careful, I might take you at your word.”

“Please do.”

Ferdinand didn’t waste anymore time, and ran right into the dark mage’s arms, almost making him lose his footing. However, Hubert stepped in his friend’s space as well, his right foot between his, burrowing his face in the bright wavy locks. The smell was divine, the heat against his chest too, now that no cold armor was separating them. He felt hands clenching at the back of his coat, reminding him that he didn’t have the time to shower yet, but this thought was lost when Ferdinand started nosing at the sliver of collarbone his shirt wasn’t hiding.

“I missed you dearly, Hubert.”

“I wasn’t planning of taking so long, I must apologize.”

Ferdinand exhaled, and the feeling against his exposed skin made him shiver a little. Then, he shook his head, keeping his voice low :

“It’s quite fine. I got used to your waiting game anyway.”

The instant was quite perfect, in Hubert’s opinion. He didn’t wish for anything to break it, and would’ve satisfied himself with staying in this embrace for hours. However, that choice of word made him tick, and he felt the need to ask :

“A game?”

A sneer answered him, and he could almost see the other man rolling his eyes.

“Well, I guessed soon enough that you were waiting for the end of the war, but still. It felt like terrible teasing to me.”

He’d feared right. Immediately, Hubert took his friend’s shoulders and pushed him away, just enough so that they could be face to face.

“Ferdinand, I never played with you. I truly had no idea.”

An amused laugh and judging eyebrows answered him.

“Oh please. You read my diaries, of course you knew.”

“I didn’t read everything.”

That made Ferdinand blink. His smile disappeared too.

“Wha– well, still!” he insisted. “Since the day we drank with everyone, I never stopped flirting! I was so terribly obvious, it was probably painful to watch.”

“I didn’t notice, I’m sorry.”

Now, the paladin was bordering shock. He had frozen in his arms, frowning, and opened his mouth with no sound coming out of it.

“How?!” he finally managed to ask, his voice cracking. “You’re the head of our information system, your _job_ is to deal with information!”

Now that he thought about it, Ferdinand’s reaction was quite understandable. He could think of quite the moments where he’d thought the other man was a little bit too close for comfort, or even mocking him. He remembered this sudden change in attitude, that he had been unable to comprehend.

“I could never imagine you fancying someone like me, that is all,” he finally explained, very embarrassed with himself.

He was expecting some kind of dramatic gesture, a very long sigh, or even eyes rolling, once again. However, Ferdinand didn’t react this way. The spark in his eye translated to determination.

“How about I show you?”

Ferdinand truly made a scene out of his enthusiasm, the two of them hidden in an empty stall, and the paladin right on his knees, deaf to his partner reminding him of his filthy state. Hubert couldn’t even look at first, overwhelmed and focused to keep as much composure as he could in this kind of situation. He never had any lesson for that, he was never supposed to become any object of affection, even less desire.

But oh, he came to understand how much Ferdinand desired him. Gone, was the childish bashfulness, as he immediately dove for his belt, opening his slacks, and getting to work. After that, Hubert lost track of himself, of the sounds coming out of his own mouth, of what he did with his hands. He was back against the wall, Ferdinand's mouth was ruthless, and he saw white.

When he finally came back to his senses, they were stumbling back to their chambers. Hubert didn’t even care about whose it was, on a mission to hear every sound his partner could make. He forgot all about his need for a bath, far too occupied getting his lips around a nipple, and drinking every needy keen it rewarded him with.

He should’ve known Ferdinand would be loud. Sensitive too, arching his back when he felt a gloved hand against his neck, opening his legs like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. Hubert very quickly came to love playing with this searing hot body, feeling every light touch being honored by the overwhelming consent of his partner. And he was feeling feverish too, though he was less demonstrative about it. It was told in the shape of his teeth branding the inside of a thigh, the amorous way he kissed the V of his partner’s hips, and then, his own voice, when he whispered :

“I think I’m going to use your secret box, my love.”

At first, he didn’t even realized what he’d just said, but the gasp Ferdinand emitted, surprised and no longer lustful made him pause. His lover looked at him with comically large eyes, his lips so red, just like the rest of his skin, marked and blushing all over. He stumbled on his words, about to panic.

“Oh, hum…”

“Please, say it again. Never stop calling me exactly that. Oh Hubert…” Ferdinand fell back on his pillow, hiding himself behind his hands, and finally, mumbled : “Same drawer as where you found it.”

Hubert jumped on his feet to hide his embarrassment and quickly retrieve the tools he was looking for. When he returned to the bed, he removed his gloves, trying not to look for too long at his stained fingertips, and got himself to work. Ferdinand was peering at him from between the slit of his fingers, and finally wrapped them behind his lover’s head, so that he could look at him while he confessed :

“I love you, Hubert von Vestra. I truly do. And I’ll never stop reminding you of that fact.”

His heart hammered in his chest, and he slowly nodded. He pecked his lover’s lips, asking him to relax, and slowly inserted his fingers inside him. Hubert kept on looking at him, in case he emitted any discomfort, but it never came. Ferdinand softly hummed, and told him he was ready.

Their embrace was a far cry from their quick, almost violent tryst in the stables. Now that the tension had been lowered, they just started enjoying each other’s heat. Hubert kissed every scar he could find, lost in the tightness around him. It felt infinite, this desire and pleasure simmering in his guts.

He could feel the call of a more animalistic need buried deep inside of him, but succeeded in putting it away. He managed to enjoy every little gasp and sweet murmur coming out of his lover, so talkative. Ferdinand was far from being submissive, too. He openly enjoyed receiving pleasure in this kind of way, showing his neck, sliding a hand along his own body, mouth open towards the ceiling.

Hubert quickly found himself attracted to that mouth again, now allowed to explore it. He sat on his knees, slowing down the rhythm of his hips just to enjoy it better. Ferdinand came to sit on his lap to reciprocate better and grind against him.

Then, he raised and lowered himself. The feeling of the heat engulfing him once more, this time at a pace he couldn’t control, was phenomenal. Enough for Hubert to forget about the warm mouth and pant wetly against his lover’s throat.

Sweaty from the exertion, Ferdinand’s smell was so much stronger it was maddening. While the other man was losing himself in his own pleasure, riding him slowly, Hubert found himself completely stuck, mouth open, almost delirious. His lover told him how good it felt, how good he was.

Hubert was no religious man, but he found himself thanking the Goddess anyway. Anything to the one who’d given him the honor of having such a beautiful man making love to him, unabashedly sharing his feelings. Ferdinand, looking like a deity, sculpted muscles shiny under the moonlight, bronze hair falling like a curtain on his shoulders, moans so delicious and sincere; was breathtaking.

It reminded him of this fateful day, when a smile had been just enough to make him realize what he’d been hiding from himself. A simple look at Ferdinand von Aegir made him fall in love so deeply he knew he could never recover.

His eyelids were starting to flutter, and his voice to get higher. His name escaped his reddened lips, and Hubert sank his hand in his lover’s hair, the softness of the locks so delightful against his palm. The other hand slowly descended along his clenching stomach, until it found burning hot wet skin.

Ferdinand let himself being lowered on his back, though he was now lifting his hips, his legs crossing around his lover’s waist, still moving with him. Completely lost to lust. Hubert started getting deeper, his voice escaping him with every harder thrust. He felt his thumb being drenched from pumping his lover’s shaft, and enclosed his palm right around the wet head, just to hear Ferdinand yelp.

The power he had just holding him in his hand was delectable. He lowered himself, almost folding his lover in two, just to kiss him again. Ferdinand immediately wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and let out a higher moan with the change of position. He repeated the angle, truly making the other man lose his breath and mind, as he babbled right against his ear, pleading him to end it all. Hubert just nodded, not trusting his voice, and lost all rhythm to simply chase about his own pleasure, the heat turning from a simmer to a full blast.

He kept on stroking his partner, getting rougher and clumsier, though he didn’t hear any complaint. Ferdinand voice was getting higher and higher, his words monosyllabic as he clenched his eyes closed, furrowing his brows while the wave kept growing between them.

One final jerk on the head of his shaft did the job for Ferdinand. Hubert fought to keep his eyes open through his own searing pleasure, as he kept stroking, watching, enraptured by the sight of his lover coming undone for what felt like forever. When his own deliverance came, a raw cry burst from his chest, he thoroughly kept on thrusting, feeling delirious when it triggered Ferdinand to tighten even more against him, as well as a new shot of white covering his body. Even as he’d finished spending himself inside, he kept on slowly moving his hips, his lips brushing as he finally stopped moving.

Hubert was tired, sweaty, absolutely disgusting, but he couldn’t get out of his lover’s embrace. With shaky arms, he helped Ferdinand find a more comfortable position, and finally came to lay on his side, facing the paladin. The bed was a little too small to be shared between two grown men, but they couldn’t care less at this instant. They would need to move anyway, Hubert had to bathe, they had to change the bed’s linen too.

He found himself mesmerized by the sight of his lover, eyes closed, basking in the afterglow of their embrace. The sight of his soiled skin caught his attention, and he realized how uncourteous he was being. Hubert rolled on his back to leave the sheets, but Ferdinand caught his wrist.

“Where are you going?”

His tone betrayed uncertainty, and he truly couldn’t hold it against him. Hubert had a lot of work waiting for him, just to gain Ferdinand’s trust regarding his own feelings and their relationship. He let his hand catch the other man’s palm, and replied in his most soothing voice :

“Not far, rest assured. I wanted to go fetch a towel for you.”

“Oh,” he let out, cheeks softly darkening. “Thank you.”

Hubert quickly dressed himself and went to one of the corridor’s cabinet, taking a clean towel, new sheets and then filling up a little bucket of water. He would’ve needed to leave the dormitories to get warm water, but with a simple spell, this wasn’t a problem anymore. He allowed himself to do it back into the chamber, just to show off a little and enjoy Ferdinand’s laugh.

“Well, Hubert, what a gentleman you are,” he teased as he let himself be pampered, parting his thighs with no shame. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting I wasn’t one before?”

“You might’ve, but I wouldn't have known.”

He smirked, squeezed the cloth to get rid of the surplus of water, and then washed his lover’s skin. A pleased sigh escaped Ferdinand who stretched his arms over his head, staring at the ceiling.

“And now, what’s next…?”

He had whispered his question, like it was rhetorical. Still, Hubert wanted to answer him.

“We need to get back home. I already left her Majesty’s side for too long, I might leave the day after tomorrow.”

“And I need to take care of the von Aegir estate, yes, I do know. We probably won’t see each other for quite some time.”

He seemed resigned to his fate. Like he might have been hoping for more, but had known it was too shallow of a wish. That wouldn’t do.

“Ferdinand, I have no intention of giving up on you.”

That made the other man frown a little, probably not expecting this kind of words.

“I cannot lie : you might’ve won your war, mine is still ongoing. My rest has not come yet, and I would never ask you to follow my selfish wish and wait for me.”

He could see Ferdinand ready to object, sitting up, but Hubert kept on talking :

“However, you should know that I plan to stay alive until my duty is done. And on that day, you shall prepare yourself for the worst courting ritual you’ve ever seen. I am terrible at this kind of exercise and certainly won’t be getting better at it. Also, I will never keep you for living your life. But I will do everything in my capacities to share it with you.”

He saw his lover blink to repress tears, visibly overwhelmed by this sudden speech. He started laughing, all the while nodding, and finally exclaimed :

“Hubert, this is the most convoluted proposal I have ever heard! And, oh, I adore it so much, this is certainly proof of how smitten I am with you, you terrible man.” A proud smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and Hubert let his lover tug on his arm and leave a dozen of kisses on his hand, his blackened fingertips, his palm. “You do not need to court me. Goddess, I am already all yours without you wooing me. Of course I’ll wait.”

A shaky breath escaped him. Not only was he understood, he was also loved. Ferdinand was able to enjoy his company, his dark humor, his emotionless persona; and still he loved him. It shook him a little bit, this sudden surge of relief, and maybe he might even dare to call it happiness. Without his lover noticing, Hubert caught his other wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing his pulse.

“It’s a terrifying thing, to suddenly receive what you desire. I surely hope you’re not planning to die soon after?”

Ferdinand answered with a very large assured smile.

“I won’t accept anything but old age.”

He felt his cheek being softly stroked. Hubert leveled his gaze up, catching the maroon eyes he loved so dearly, the man he had decided to trust with his own life and heart, and murmured :

“Until old age do us apart, then.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it surely was a journey... I've had writing sprees before, but seeing as it's my first time doing it in english + starting publication even though I haven't finished writing yet; it really had a special taste. A very good one, obviously!
> 
> Because yeah, it's time for me to babble a little bit about me : I have been in a weird spot for a month. I was basically living my dream in Japan, having a job, making friends, practicing the language... and then it became clear that the entire world was little bit too crazy for me to risk stranding myself in a country that I may love, but where I still had no real place to stay for a while. I had to go back to France with my mom, giving up on a lot of opportunities, and just... wait, because we're still in quarantine here like most of the world, and I really can't make plans in this situation.
> 
> That's basically why I started publishing this fanfiction early instead of waiting to finish writing it like I usually do. I needed comfort, and I hoped I could find it sharing my work, with what I know is a pretty big fandom (try writing 70k SouHaru fanfictions in french and you'll understand true loneliness lol).
> 
> And you guys' answer was really amazing! It felt really good to interact with friends and new people about something as silly as Hubie's bigass crush on Ferdinand. I gave myself a deadline to finish for Ferdinand's birthday, and that made me work everyday instead of just rotting away playing P5R and ACNH. So that's why I wanted to thank anyone who took the time to read, leave kudos, or a comment. This really means a lot to me.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the ending, I was kinda scared the sex scene at the end wouldn't fit with the atmosphere but quoting my beta "people will love it", so I hope you did :D
> 
> For a few notables things :
> 
> \- I'm in love with Hubert's physical reaction to the coffee beans being for him in his and Ferdie's A+ support. I managed to put it in this chapter and I'm very happy about it.
> 
> \- Hubert and Ferdinand's embrace on the battlefield was 100% (and completely unconsciously) inspired by the TV show Hannibal. I won't say which scene to not spoil anyone, those who watched the show _know which scene_.
> 
> \- Very sorry for the _super angsy Sylvix subtext_ , I couldn't resist. No need to go after my ass, my beta who adores Sylvain is already ready to kill me as soon as quarantine ends.
> 
> \- I really wanted Edelgard to not know about Hubert's feelings. I totally get it when in fanfictions, she's one of the characters who knows first (as Hubert's closest friend), but for this fanfiction, I wasn't feeling this trope. On the contrary I felt it more meaningful for him to be able to hide his feeling well enough so that no one knows (except Ferdie kinda), and actually "come ou" to Edelgard. I really like this scene, writing her laugh feels very good too :)
> 
> \- I also loved writing the little action scene between Hubert and Seteth. I'd really like to write more action-based fiction in the future.
> 
> \- Faeria's name comes from something weird, ngl. I wanted to just give her my dog's name (Elfie) but it didn't really fit with my idea of Ferdinand's typical names. I also read a fanfiction where the horse is named Aria, which is my bestfriend's dog name... and I kinda combined the two lol
> 
> And I think that's it! I don't really have plans to write any more Ferdibert atm, inspiration might come later. But I'd really like to keep on writing while I can, since I'm basically doing nothing while in quarantine and probably after that.
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@Papy1412](https://twitter.com/Papy1412), I mostly retweet fanarts, and babble on either Gintama, TGCF, Persona, & tons of other fandoms, sometimes in french sometimes in english.
> 
> See you around!


End file.
